


harden my heart

by redjadequeen



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Timeline, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Romance, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Is Bad at Feelings, Billy has a big stupid crush, Blood and Violence, Child Abuse, Class Differences, Desire, Deviates From Canon, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Hidden Depths, Hot Sex, Immaturity, Jealous Billy Hargrove, LSD, Love/Hate, Period-Typical Homophobia, Possessive Behavior, Recreational Drug Use, Swimming Pools, Teenagers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, heather is rich, rich vs working class
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2020-10-10 19:44:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 85,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20533559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redjadequeen/pseuds/redjadequeen
Summary: Billy Hargrove struggles with his intense attraction to a rich Heather Holloway, a girl he deems off-limits. A passionate storm ensues as two opposing worlds collide, and Billy's issues are gradually laid bare.





	1. ask me if i care

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first long fic and each chapter is literally documenting my learning so please be gentle with me.
> 
> In this story we start off around season 2 and will go into season 3 but without the supernatural elements. There will be major deviations from canon as we go. Including Heather being filthy rich and having different hair for the first half of the fic. Longer and naturally wavy before she gets her 80s perm. There will also be a few original characters that get some brief moments.
> 
> Besides that, the tags/summary pretty much explains it. I'll update them as the story evolves.
> 
> If you wanna talk, hit me up on my [ tumblr](https://redjadequeen.tumblr.com/)  


The thing about Heather Holloway is that she isn't supposed to be in Billy's life. He's tried so hard to make sure of that. Works at it daily.

She's an upper class girl. A kind girl. A pretty girl. A girl with dark curls in a scrunchie, wearing bangles obnoxiously thick for her sharp wrists. Doe-eyes that people innately trust. Lips that curve in an enticing slope whenever she opens her sweet mouth. _Too _sweet. The kind of sweet that sinks into Billy’s marrow like a cancer. He hates her immediately, avoids her at all costs, would rather bite off his own tongue than acknowledge her.

So for weeks they never say a single word to each other. The few times she lays eyes on him he shoots her a look so nasty that she averts her gaze instantly. He knows speaking to her would open the floodgates to some sort of inconceivable chaos. He doesn't know how he knows that, but the adrenaline that spikes whenever he sees the back of her dainty head is more than enough warning. He doesn't usually have that kind of reaction to anyone. To anything. The closest sensation is that stomach-turning awareness he gets when he hears his father’s car pull into the driveway every evening. But that isn't really the same. This is different, more potent in its unfamiliarity.

It's been no use though. There's a cruel force that keeps her near him. They strangely enter senior year at Hawkins High on the same week in late October; have all the same dull classes; are exactly four rusty lockers away from each other. Their names are frequently called back-to-back during roll call. _Hargrove. Holloway_. They manage to arrive at and exit the same school doors at the same time everyday. It’s a goddamn conspiracy. Being in Hawkins is already depressing enough, but Heather is the sticky icing on the bleakest cake. He can taste it, rich and heavy with something...what is it? _Trouble _. Definitely trouble. It's a relief that they live on opposite sides of town.

Despite all this purposeful avoidance, Billy has an uneasy gut-sensation that one day their lives _will _collide. And that once they do, the force of the impact will decimate him, turning him to particles of ash.

It's only a matter of time.

* * *

Billy has his first real taste of Heather when he runs into her in the most unlikely place; his own front door step.

It’s one of those lazy, drawn-out Sundays when it’s just him and his younger step-sister Max biding time. It’s mid November and freezing. Neil and Susan are out on their weekly shopping venture and Billy’s not doing his homework like he said he would. Instead, he’s pumping iron, blaring Van Halen; the clinking steel and pouring sweat a balm over the irritated sore that won’t heal: that he’s trapped in Hawkins. In _Hell._

The doorbell rings and there’s no chance he’s going to answer it. Max _always _gets the door on Sundays. She’s almost acceptable in that sense; most of the time she actually listens to him. _Most _of the time. He was going to work on that.

She stomps out into his workout space, blue eyes turbulent, red hair a flame behind her. “Yeah, yeah. I know, I’m getting it.”

Billy’s eyes are on the stucco ceiling, breathing tightly controlled, and the sudden awareness of David Lee Roth singing _"Ain’t got no love that you'd call real" _bites into his current rep.

Then Max is saying his name. “Billy. _Billy! _”

Groaning, he sets his barbell down on the rack, feeling blood rush back into his hands. Max is by his side now, standing over him. The chill air rushing in from the open door makes his arms break out in goosebumps. “What?”

“Uh, a girl’s asking for the adult of the house.” She smirks, “I guess you’re close enough?”

Billy runs a hand down his sweat-streaked face, reaches for a towel. “Jesus, it’s probably just one of those donation assholes. Tell her to fuck off.” But Max is already half-way to her room, her small form disappearing behind a corner. Billy’s too physically tired to yell at her just now; he’ll tell her off later. He pulls himself up with a reluctant sigh, wiping the remnants of sweat from his brow. He trudges to the entrance, planning a little speech to get rid of the intruder. But then he sees just _who _’s standing in the doorway, profile to him, that curly hair blowing around her shoulders. _Heather Holloway._

_Fuck._

Heather’s head turns, sees him; she smiles apprehensively. “Hi...” She's holding a thick stack of neon-yellow flyers in her arms.

Billy stalks into the doorway, the pulse in his ears deafening. For some reason his hands are clenched into fists, nail digging into palm. His eyes are steely as he gives her an unsettling once-over before snapping them to her heart-shaped face. “What do you want?” His own voice sounds disturbing to him.

“It’s Billy, right?” Her smile doesn’t falter, but her eyes can’t quite seem to ever fully meet his. There's an uncomfortable pause as he glares at her in rigid silence. Her voice is fragile when she continues, struggles to find its footing. “Uh-I’m Heather. I think we’re in the same class together? Well, classes. We’ve never really talked but I see you all the time.I mean, not all the time but-”

"_Why _are you _here _?” Billy drawls, agitated. He wants to shut the door in her face, shove her down the patio steps, or maybe snatch the flyers she’s holding in her arms and tear them into tiny pieces.

Heather gets increasingly breathless. “Well, um- I’m going around town to supporting our local cat shelter, The Hawkins Independent Cat Society.” Billy's watching a deep flush start to rise up her neck. She’s holding out one of those damn flyers to him; He doesn’t take it. “Um, winter’s coming up so that means we’re uh- looking for extra volunteers to take care of the influx of strays we usually get. And any donations that you could give would be so helpful. Even a dollar. We really need any help we can get.”

Billy’s arms cross as he leans against the doorway. He glances down at the paper, back to her, offers her a fake smile. “I _hate _cats.” He’s lying but his tone could kill a small houseplant.

Heather’s strained smile dissolves, her brow creasing. She snatches the paper to her chest. “Okay, well that’s...unfortunate. Thank you for your time. Uh, see you…” She fades out, her expression dismal. “.._ tomorrow _.” She does a quick turn and hurries down the steps, snatching her bike from off the grass, cramming the papers into her front basket.

Somehow her last sentence is more violent to Billy than any visual he just had of shoving her down the front stairs. He watches her departure, speeding off his front lawn like she can’t get out of here fast enough. He un-clenches his fists,rolls his tense shoulders back, attempts to breathe fully. He slams the door shut, and it makes the windows rattle.

* * *

When Billy arrives at school on Monday, he's on the edge of a knifepoint. The day's barely begun but his anxiety is peaking, roiling in his gut. Five minutes after the first bell he loiters in the parking lot, leaning against his Camaro, fingers coiled around a cigarette while brisk wind whips at his hair. He stares out at the small sea of cars, hoping the chill and nicotine will numb his nerves.

He can't quite pinpoint where the tension is coming from. He knows he didn't sleep well last night, knows he didn't study for the math test this morning. He's thinking he'll probably do alright; he's good with numbers, but he wishes he had a firmer grasp of the curriculum. He’s been flying by the seat of his pants since he arrived at Hawkins, above average on tests but never _quite _bothering with homework, skipping class every other day. He knows it'll catch up to him pretty quick.

Billy _also _knows that Heather will be there. Front row seat, all slim shoulders and cashmere, her hand raising every goddamn minute. He religiously sits in the last row, and always gets a clear view of the back of her head, her neck almost straining under all that thick hair. Sometimes his fingers itch to pull out that stupid scrunchie. He wants to see her hair fall out in dark waves down her spine. Maybe yank at the locks and make her squeal. He wants to know what she sounds like off kilter; not so pretty and perfect.

With that thought he sees her. She's on her bike as usual, rolling into the parking lot real smooth. It irritates the hell out of him. Can't her parents give her a ride or a car or something? She owns a freaking one-speed. It's beneath her, really.

His mind springs back to their awkward interaction yesterday. He had been a total dick; he's sure of it. But he had felt unable to react in any other way. He's usually pretty good with girls. Knows how to lay on the charm real thick, lower his voice and eyelids for that sultry effect. It doesn't take much effort. He knows he has a natural gift and takes pleasure in utilizing it. With Heather, he feels _weak _. Feels prickly and embarrassed before he even opens his mouth. It bewilders him. _Girls _are supposed to be the vulnerable ones.

She spots him and turns her head away. He immediately _hates _this reaction, which surprises him because her ignoring him was suiting him just fine a few days ago. That is, _before _yesterday’s interlude. Billy tosses his cigarette butt, and starts towards the front doors. He walks slowly so Heather reaches the building way before he does.

To his surprise she cruises on up next to him and gets a little _too _close.He catches a whiff of her floral shampoo, sees the shine of her lip gloss, her handlebar nearly brushing against his arm. “You're late too, huh?"

"_Yeah _?" He makes sure that his irritation is obvious.

"Race you there." She teases, bold unlike yesterday.

_Hilarious. _"I’m good, thanks."

She shoots him a lopsided grin, and Billy’s heart-rate picks up a notch. "See you in class.” She takes off, speeding to the front of the building; dismounting and locking up her bike up with a dexterity that impresses him. Billy stares as she strides through the front door with a kind of grace that only an athlete could have. He wonders if she dances, or does gymnastics. Something that would explain her agility, her posture, that _body _…Billy grimaces, steeling himself against his own thoughts.

He seriously needs to stay the hell away from her.

* * *

Billy is the last person to arrive to Math class.

“_Mr.Hargrove _, thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to join us today.”

Billy ignores Mr. Davis’s sarcasm and notices that someone’s taken his usual spot in the back. Of course the only desk available is right beside Heather.The conspiracy continues. He sits down in the empty seat, avoiding eye contact with her, running his eyes up her jean-clad legs under her desk.

“It seems you’ve forgotten your supplies.” Mr. Davis says dryly behind his glasses.

Billy shifts in his chair, feeling everyone’s gaze on him. He was so focused on getting to class that he had skipped going to his locker. “Would appear so..”

Mr. Davis sighs and scans the room. “Does anyone have a spare pencil?”.

Billy hears a quiet snap as Heather opens her pencil case and rummages through it. He eyes her organized desk and sees that she has definitely _not _forgotten her school supplies. In fact, she has an overstock.

She passes him a pencil with a perfectly sharp tip. “Here.” Her eyes are sympathetic and it makes Billy want to leave her hanging, but he takes it with a mumbled thanks.

“Alright, class.” Mr. Davis begins handing out the tests, starting with Billy . “I _really _hope you’ve studied this weekend, because there’s going to be a few surprises on this one.”

Billy groans inwardly, starts skimming the test for signs of danger; frowns when he sees problems that he’s destined to struggle with. He glances at Heather who’s already scribbling furiously, white teeth piercing her bottom lip. He stares a little too long at her mouth.

“Do you need another pencil, Mr.Hargrove? Eyes on your paper.”

Heather meets Billy’s gaze for a second before he jerks his head away, disconcerted by the heat rising in his own face. Her eyes are always so damn _soft _, like melting hearts is her life’s purpose. It was better when he could only see the back of her head.

After about five minutes, Billy realizes he’s going to fail this test. Or at least shame himself. Math is his best class outside of Gym so it comes as an unpleasant surprise. He hadn’t realized just _how _behind he was. He pushes awkwardly through it, exhales in relief whenever he finds an equation he understands. For an hour he feels like a complete idiot. By the time Billy reaches the last section, he’s absolutely defeated.

Heather finishes first, curls bouncing as she springs up from her desk to place her paper on the teacher’s desk. She gathers her stuff and Billy pretends he doesn’t notice her ass when she walks past him. He gives himself permission to steal another glance as she leaves the room. This doesn’t concern him _too _much as he probably would have had the same reaction to any girl with a good body. He should really stop thinking about her eyes though; pools of warm chocolate that threatened to brim over any second. He bets she cries easily, probably bawls at Pampers commercials. Billy _loathes _sappy chicks.

Billy realizes he’s had his pencil hovering over one digit for several minutes. Jesus, he's off today.

Ten minutes later, he finishes the test to the best of his abilities, knowing he bombed it. He gets up and slams the paper down on Mr.Davis’s desk, making him jump in his seat, glasses sliding down his nose. Billy grins and struts out into the hall, prepared for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno if you can tell I suck at math by the lack of detail about what's on that test but be assured it's really hard okay?


	2. my uptown girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy jumps to conclusions. Sometimes he's right.

Billy wrenches open his locker and winces at the piercing squeak it emits. He glances at Heather’s locker four spots down from his, noticing the outside of it looks freakishly clean. He imagines her wiping it down in an OCD-driven panic. He’s guessing _ her _locker door probably opens soundless on well-oiled hinges.

He suddenly feels a tap on his right shoulder and spins his head around. It's Tommy H., standing on his left, grinning like an idiot. Billy smirks. He can’t fucking _ stand _ this guy but tolerates his inane bullshit to enter somewhere on top of the school hierarchy. That shit _ matters _ to him. He needs the leverage for access to the better parties,the better chicks, the better pot; Tommy is his foot in the door, a necessary evil.

“Hey man, you going out with us tonight?” Tommy smacks his arm with his notebook and Billy flinches.

“It’s _ Monday_, Tommy.” Billy's mouth curls in a caustic twist. He reaches for his English textbook.

“So? Never stopped you before.” This is true.

“_Yeah _, that was before the old man started taking my keys from me on school-nights. Can’t go anywhere after eight now.”

“Aw shit, last week was really that bad huh?”

Last time when they had gone drinking on a weekday, Billy had tried sneaking back into his house through his bedroom window, but ended up knocking over his record player, waking the whole house up. Neil was _ not _ pleased. He had shoved him into a wall, slapped him to tears; the _ works _.

“It wasn’t _ good. _ ” Billy slams his locker door shut. He scans over Tommy’s mean face, envisions smacking it repeatedly. The guy's a goddamn nuisance. Especially since him and Carol had broken up. He seems to follow him everywhere now. Called him a few days ago just to _ talk _. Billy refuses to take the bait. He's not a fucking shoulder to cry on and he wants Tommy in his life like he wants a skin rash. Thankfully, knowing him and Carol, they’ll probably be back together in a week anyways. They both make their way towards English class together, a lingering silence present before Tommy breaks it.

“So...what do you think of _ Heather _? You know, the brunette.” Tommy asks, looking at him with anticipation, like he’s expecting a fist bump or something just for mentioning her.

Jesus Christ, is the universe trying to fuck with him today? “I _ don’t. _” Billy says louder than necessary. A few people in the hall glance at him.

Tommy lifts his brows. “Really? She’s pretty cute, man.”

Billy shrugs, raises his hand to touch the banner for The Hawkins Winter Dance as they walk underneath it. “You should know by now priss ain’t my type.”

“I dunno if she’s a _ priss _ . I mean, she’s a goody-good for sure, but she’s pretty chill. You _ really _wouldn’t hit that?”

“Not a fucking chance.” Billy enunciates slowly.

“_Okay_. Weird.” Tommy eyes him suspiciously, like he’s disappointed that he doesn’t have someone to congratulate him for his good taste. “_Anyways_, I’m thinking of asking her out to Teresa’s party this weekend.”

Billy clenches his jaw. There’s no way in _ hell _Heather would go for Tommy. Even he can see she's way out of his league. “Yeah, good luck with that.” His tone is just plain mean.

Tommy sneers shark-like. “What’s _ that _supposed to mean, Hargrove?” 

Billy casually fishes in his jean jacket pocket for a stick of gum. “Pretty little rich girl is gonna go for a pretty rich _ boy _, isn’t she? She wouldn’t open her legs for anything less.” 

“Pfffft, It’s not like my family’s broke or something. _ Where _are you getting this from?”

“I know her type from a mile away. It’ll take you a year to get to first base.” Billy’s blue eyes are gloating at Tommy’s look of dismay. “That is, if she even lets you take a swing.” He places the stick of gum in his mouth.

_"Right. _I see you’ve got her all figured out.” He’s clearly deflated though. Another long pause. “You know, she’s on the swim team, right? She’s pretty good. I saw her at practice once. _ Real _talented. Legs for days." He looks at Billy with a lewd grin, expecting him to make some perverted comment in return. 

Billy begins to picture Heather emerging dripping wet from a swimming pool, ripping the vision from his mind before it fully forms. “What, so you’re stalking her now?”

Tommy scoffs. “_No _. Carol’s also on the team. Caught a glimpse by chance. And now that Carol’s old news, it’s time to expand my horizons.” 

Tommy’s overconfidence pisses Billy off to no end. “It’s been five days, Tommy. Calm the fuck down.” 

“Speak for yourself, Hargrove. I’ve got _ needs_.”

Billy suppresses an eyeroll. Tommy’s only slept with one girl in his entire life, yet acts like he’s some kind of player. “Trust me, you ain’t gonna get them met by _ her _.”

“How the fuck do you know this chick so well? Have you ever even talked to her?”

“Like I said, I know her type. Doesn’t take a genius.” The conversation ends at that, leaving Tommy frowning.

The rest of the day goes by much smoother than Billy anticipated. He gets the back row seat every class, gets a good view of Heather’s head and shoulders from behind as per usual. Except this time he has to stop his eyes from lasering a hole into her skull, tearing his gaze away to stare unseeingly at the board in front of him.

They don’t talk again all week. 

* * *

Saturday night comes around on a bright full moon, and Billy works hard at beautifying himself in the mirror. His image reflects denim and leather, blonde waves perfectly coiffed, tan somehow still glowing. He looks like he’s down to fuck. This of course, is absolutely his intention. He doesn’t know who he intends on seducing tonight. He isn’t particularly interested in going after anyone from Hawkins High, after already going through the top of the heap. The chicks here are god-awful in his eyes compared to the fashionable babes back in California. He’s kind of hoping some hot college girl will happen to be at Teresa’s party. _ Who the fuck even is Teresa?_

He knows he can’t get wasted tonight. He had agreed to be the designated driver for Tommy and his group of moronic friends. _ So _he plans to have just one beer, and get as stoned as humanly possible. He wonders if anyone in Hawkins has any good coke. Probably not.

He manages to escape his house without being spotted. Neil was too drunk to notice him leaving. If he _ had _ noticed him though, he probably would have gotten a good smack to the head for no reason. On the other hand, he might have gotten some extra cash for gas. Billy never really knows _what _ he's going to get. He won’t take the chance though.

Billy rolls into Teresa’s driveway around ten and the place is packed to the brim. It’s a nice house, has a nice pool, a well maintained lawn with expensive ornaments that will likely be smashed or stolen by morning. When inside, the party is starting to take off, metallic synth pounding in his ear drums, drunk people laughing and hollering. Billy pushes through the dense crowd, and doesn’t recognize most of the faces. Some of them are actually pretty cute though, so there’s a chance he might find a good lay after all.

He finally finds Tommy, who’s alone on the cramped back-patio deck, leaning over the railing looking forlorn. He’s staring out into the backyard garden area. Billy looks over to where Tommy’s head is pointed and feels his gut turn. 

There’s Heather. Leaning on the shoulder of fucking_ Steve Harrington _.

_Of course._

He takes a few seconds to absorb this horrifyingly predictable picture, then creeps up on Tommy; slaps him hard on the back, making him splash most of his drink on the deck.

“_See,_ what’d I tell ya?” Billy leers. “Pretty rich girl goes for pretty rich boy.”

“Jesus, Hargrove! Don’t _ do _ that.” Tommy punches Billy’s arm, then grimaces at the spilled contents of his cup. He looks back out into the yard. “Okay, you got me. Maybe you had a point. But god, would you fucking _ look _at them?” He gestures over to the duo. 

Billy would really rather not but does anyway, immediately getting another fresh kick to his gut. Steve has his arm around Heather now and they’re both laughing like models in a Ralph Lauren commercial. Steve says something in her ear and she beams at him. They're so fucking cute it's nauseating. Billy wants to hurl already.

“Y’know, they almost look like they’re related.” Tommy quips bitterly.

Billy releases a harsh bark of laughter. “Yeah, well you know how these blue bloods like to keep things in the family.”

Tommy looks at his near-empty cup with a wistful sigh then back to Billy. “I’m gonna go get hammered now.” He begins ambling towards the kitchen.

Billy calls after him, scowling. “Look, I’m not going to hold your hair back later, so pace yourself, alright? If anyone throws up in my car again this is the last time I’m driving.”

Tommy looks back with a dismissive eye roll. “Yeah yeah, I know. God, do you _ ever _lighten up?” 

Billy gives him a warning glance, then disappears in the opposite direction of the party.

* * *

Billy’s been at this supposedly wild party for almost an hour and _ still _ hasn’t found any pot. What the fuck is wrong with this town? Oh right, it’s Hawkins. Apparently Tommy’s dealer is coming out later that night but being from California, he’s used to instant access. Plus he’s feeling _ way _too damn sober. He’s becoming aware of just how shallow and juvenile these parties actually are and one beer is just not going to cut it. 

When he rounds the house to the pool area, his nose picks up the earthy musk of what he seeks, and he snaps his head in its direction. He nearly groans when he sees the source.

It’s Steve and his new _ girl._

Steve and Heather are looking picturesque, standing and chatting by the blue glow of the pool, passing a joint under the full moon. Billy’s riding a confidence boost from his beer buzz and decides to rain on their parade. 

He strolls up to them, and when Steve’s smile fades, Billy beams real wide.

“Hey _ Stevie_, how’s it going?” He’s all false charm and knows it’s obvious; doesn’t care. He glances at Heather and feels an electric charge in his blood at the sight of her. She’s wearing tight black jeans and a red lace blouse that brings out her natural color. Her face is made up, smokey lids and cherry lips. She looks older, hotter, disorientingly sultry. Billy looks her up and down a tad too openly before forcing his eyes back to Steve, who’s glowering at him. 

“It was going pretty good til' right about now.” Steve deadpans. Billy notices Heather elbow him in the ribs and he can’t believe that she’s actually concerned about Steve being nice to him. He also notices that she’s pretty damn stoned. To his surprise, Billy _ likes _seeing her this way, eyes hooded and her demeanour a little undone, a little weird. He hadn’t thought her the type to get high at all.

“Mind if I join you?” Billy expects to be shut-down but is so desperate for a toke that he doesn’t give a fuck.

Steve starts to say something but Heather leans over and passes him the joint. Billy raises his eyebrows and takes it from her, their fingers brushing for a quick second. He sees the red ring of her lipstick on the paper and feels his stomach flip. He brings the doobie to his lips and takes a couple of deep inhales, looking up at the moon,knowing this might be the only hit he gets all night.

“Yeah, c'mon man, don’t bogart it.” Steve motions his fingers to hand back the joint, and Billy does, exhaling smoke with a grin. It’s serious quality kush. He’s already euphoric. Billy senses Heather’s gaze on him and he stares back into her big brown eyes, the weed loosening his boundaries. Tonight he really _ looks _ at her, fully taking her in as if for the first time, eyes skimming over her creamy skin, her soft red mouth. She’s fucking _ beautiful _. And she's not looking away. He licks his dry lips.

“Wasn’t expecting to see you here.” He mumbles. He hadn’t planned to say anything to her, but he suddenly feels a fierce desire to hear her speak.

Heather smiles at him and motions her head towards Steve. “He dragged me out of the house.”

Billy stiffens, snaps back to sharp reality. “Right...” He glances at Steve who looks like he’s about to kick his ass. “Good stuff, Harrington. Seriously puts Tommy’s dirt to shame.” He slaps Steve on the arm just to bother him some more, and turns towards the house.He needs a warm body to melt into, and_ fast._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of this one? Yeah I wasn't expecting the love triangle to happen but it did, so lets see what happens? I'm not the hugest fan of love triangles so I'll try not to let it drag on for too long. I kinda wanna get to the good stuff so...


	3. play slayer!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy is a chauffeur.

It turns out Teresa is the hot college chick Billy's been hoping for.

She finds _ him_. Not long after he steps foot back inside the house, agitated and lusty, she makes a beeline in his direction. Starts up a conversation that he knows is going to end with him getting lucky. She even already knows his name. This strikes Billy as kind of creepy but in a town as shit as this any bit of flair or personality seemed to mark one as as some type of celebrity.

She's cute. Redheaded. Nice rack. Billy doesn't need much coaxing. Their tongues are colliding before there's any thought on his part. She wants it _ bad_. Tastes like rum and coke. She drags him upstairs to the bathroom, pushing him against the sink. Starts unzipping his jeans before he's even hard. The pot is doing that weird-ass thing of making him horny yet slow to respond. It's okay. She has clever hands and gets to work like it's her job to please him. Billy likes her enthusiasm.

He finally gets it up, but his mind is elsewhere. On a certain brown eyed, curly-haired vixen. She wasn't close to that in Billy’s mind yesterday but tonight she's a fucking siren.He can't stop thinking about her mouth, the way her jeans cling to her hips. How he could see her skin through the red lace of her top. The weed is making it easy for him to imagine, to visualize. He imagines that pretty mouth on him and starts to leak in Teresa's hand.

He closes his eyes as Teresa takes him on her tongue, starts sucking eagerly. She's good. Has better technique than any of the high school chicks he's been with in Hawkins.

He wonders if Heathers done this before, what she'd be like. Would she be bashful, shy? Or would she take him in greedily like Teresa is now.

A pang of guilt hits him, like Heathers too good to ever go down on him like this. Like she'd want a bed of roses. Want someone to...make _ love _ to her or something. He snaps his eyes open and sees Teresa's bobbing head, watches the soft flesh of her cleavage as she gives him one of the better blowjobs he's had in a while.

He's close. Shuts his eyes again, this time imagining Heather taking him just as passionately as Teresa. It does the trick. He convulses, letting himself spill into her throat without warning. She doesn't seem to mind; swallows easily, maintains eye contact, seeming to enjoy the whole process. Billy's probably going to ask for her number after this.

A few minutes later Billy leaves the bathroom with Teresa’s digits scrawled on his wrist in ballpoint. He sets out to find Tommy, body tingling in its afterglow, Heather’s lithe form still on his mind.

* * *

The fucker is nowhere to be found. Billy’s doing a constant circle of premises, looking for a shark-faced scumbag that's supposed to acquire the rest of tonight’s pot. Although, after the blowjob he’s pretty much ready to go home, his reason for coming here already fulfilled. 

Billy isn’t that surprised when he finds Tommy sprawled in the basement bathroom. The basement where the seedier drugs are being passed around. Billy is _ not _ going to try anything that's being snorted down here. Who knows what the fuck that stuff is cut with.

Billy leans against the door frame. “You’re a predictable motherfucker, Hagan, you know that?”

Tommy’s retching, moaning into the toilet. Looks up at Billy with a sweat-wet face. “Sorry, man, fuck....“Shouldn’ta had all those jello shots. And then….the fuckin’ keg…’s stupid.” He gazes blearily at Billy’s eyes for a moment.. “...you fuckin’ stoned man?”

Billy actually still is, and it's making this situation more tolerable than it should be.“Best shit I’ve had since I got to this fuckin’ town.”

“Larry’s comin’ man. S’ coming here. S’ gonna get us good stuff. Gotta wait.”

Billy snorts. “Fuck _ that _ shit. We’re leaving.” He'd much rather leave Tommy lying in his own vomit, but he's not about to ditch the guy who could send him spiralling to the bottom of the social ladder by Monday.

Tommy rests his head against the toilet seat. “Need water. Gimme water.”

Billy frowns at the command, but he needs Tommy in the best condition possible before he lets him anywhere near the Camaro. He sighs showily before leaving the room. “Yeah yeah, I’ll get you fucking water, jesus.” 

He finds a cup from the basement kitchen-cupboard and fills it to the brim with tap water, feeling all eyes on him. Goes back to the bathroom and squats next to Tommy, handing it to him. Tommy gulps it down within seconds. 

“Here’s the deal.” Billy sneers, yanking Tommy’s cup from his fingers and slamming it on the bathroom counter. “I’m taking your drunk ass home. I’m _ not _bringing any of your idiot friends ‘cause the last thing I need is another asshole to baby. Puke in the car; you’re walking. Got it?”

Tommy giggles, absorbing nothing. Billy seizes Tommy’s collar and wrenches him off the floor, forcing him to stagger upright. “Can you even _ stand_?” He grimaces as Tommy leans against him, head lolling onto his shoulder. "Shit_._”

Tommy's still snickering, like he's trying to rub it in. "You're always...so _ sad_, man. Why so _ sad_?" 

"If anyones sad right now it's_ you_, asshole." Billy yanks Tommy's arm around his neck, grumbling. "Jeez, you weigh a fuck-ton. You better be giving me free pot for _life _after this." 

"Les' go, man." Tommy lumbers forward as though trying to lead them.Billy roughly pulls him back.

"You follow _ me_, idiot."

Billy drags Tommy's stumbling weight across the basement, saucer-eyed druggies around the room leering at them.

"Hagan is fuckin' w-w-wasted!" A Hawkins High kid with rat-tail hair crows from one of the couches. "You gonna tuck him into bed too, Hargrove?"

"I'll tuck my foot up your ass, moron." Billy snarls, canines showing. He hauls Tommy's futile body up the stairs, swearing under his breath the entire way. "You owe me _ big time, _ fuckhead."

* * *

Getting Tommy into the Camaro is no easy feat. Carrying him is the equivalent of dragging a heavy sack of writhing potatoes around. Billy’s tempted to abandon him face down in the driveway. It’s a miracle when he finally wrestles Tommy’s limbs into the passenger's seat.

“Billyyyy, play _ Slayer _ !” Tommy whine-yells with his eyes closed as Billy settles into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut behind him. “Play _ Slayerrrr_!”.

“Gimme a sec, asshole.” Billy reaches into his jacket for his pack of Marlboro's. He’s never needed one more.

To his dismay Tommy already has the glove compartment open, pawing through his cassettes with zero delicacy, a few of them clattering as they hit the car floor. “Where-where is it…Hargrove.._Slayer_...”

“What the hell are you doing!” Billy smacks Tommy’s hand away from his prized possessions.

“PLAY SLAYER!”

“Shut the _ fuck _ up.” He reaches across and grabs _ Show No Mercy _ from the compartment, other hand sticking the scattered tapes back in their proper place. He turns the ignition on and crams the cassette into the tape deck. “Happy now?” Every atom in his body wants to punch Tommy in the throat. 

“Fuck yeahhhh!” Tommy moans as the opening to “Evil Has No Boundaries” thuds into their bones. Billy nearly breaks Tommy’s arm when he leans over and makes the devil-horns sign in his face.

Tommy clutches his shoulder, scowling. ”_Asshole _…”

“One more peep outta you and I’ll tear it right out of its socket.” Billy grumbles around his cigarette as he lights up, puffing smoke with a sigh of relief as nicotine and thrash-metal course through him. Then he adjusts his rearview mirror and has a woeful realization. 

Steve Harrington’s car is right behind him. 

“You’ve _ gotta _ be kidding me.” Billy looks over his shoulder through the back window. Steve is sitting in his car. With Heather in the passenger seat. Billy bites the inside of his cheek when he sees Steve lean in and kiss her. 

Billy glares at a head-banging Tommy. “Touch anything and you’re dead. Got it?” He wrenches open his door, hinges squeaking, steeling himself for the cherry on top of this shit sundae of an evening. He strides up to Harrington’s car and raps his knuckles in an aggressive rhythm against the glass by Steve’s head, making the lovebirds startle, two pairs of glazed eyes blinking at him.

Steve presses his lips together and shakes his head in annoyance, rolling down his window. “Can I help you?” The whites of his eyes are red and glassy.

Billy pulls from his cigarette and leans down to Steve’s eye level, palm pressed into the top of the door frame. He exhales a white haze into the car, his voice charmingly hostile. “Hate to ruin the moment, pretty boy, but you’re _blocking_ me. Mind moving the fuck out of the way? Got shit to do.” He avoids looking at Heather.

“Yeah whatever, Hargrove. Calm your tits.” Steve huffs, digging his keys out of his pocket.

Billy’s about to return to his car before Heather’s gentle voice cuts through him like a knife.

“Hey, Billy, um-have you thought of trying out for the swim team?”

This is the last question he expects from her. Their eyes meet and Billy feels that too-intimate spark again. She’s still stunning. Still high as a kite.

“Carol said you were a lifeguard in California or something. You know, we could always use another strong swimmer. Steve’s on the team too, actually.” Steve’s gawking at her like her words are a personal offense. Heather doesn’t seem to notice, her gaze still on Billy.

“Pretty sure we’ve got enough swimmers, Heath’.” Steve mutters, sticking his keys in the ignition and starting the engine.

Billy's smug as he scans over that damn lace top again. “Not likely, princess. Gotta give Harrington a chance to shine at _ something _.” He smacks Steve’s shoulder through the window. “Later, stoners.” 

He turns and heads back to the Camaro, unable to suppress the onset of butterflies he feels at Heather’s suggestion, that she even thought to ask him at all. But he’d rather burn in hell than wear one of those stupid swim caps, even if it meant seeing Heather’s half-naked form on the regular. Some things just aren’t worth the humiliation.

* * *

Snow arrives in Hawkins the first Monday of December, a bitter chill on its tail. It’s miserable. Billy doesn’t like how he has to bundle up. How he has to hide his skin. Doesn’t like how his teeth chatter in the cold. It’s not a good look.

Despite his ignorance of shit weather, Billy’s prepared. Neil bought him snow tires a month ago. Neil’s a North Dakota boy. Knows to get these things ahead of time. Billy hasn't seen snow since he visited Neil's parents as a kid, and he’s not looking forward to the inevitable shovelling of the driveway, to the black ice Neil says is likely to form on the roads soon. Hell, the entire six months ahead of him is looking pretty damn bleak. 

After school, the snow’s coming in fast and sticking. Billy exits the front doors and treks through the mostly-empty parking lot towards his Camaro, itching to blast Metallica and heat. Billy had detention for smoking in the boy’s locker room, forced to stay after class to do “homework.” Which basically meant drawing cartoons all over the inside of his binder for an hour.

Inside his car, properly satiated by electric guitars and the smouldering cigarette perched in his mouth, he pulls out of his parking space and cruises towards the exit. He feels oddly careful with the new crystallized surroundings.

Then his eyes catch a sorry sight in his periphery.

Heather’s on her cherry-red bike, attempting to make her way through the falling snow. She’s actually doing a pretty good job, practically sailing, but it infuriates him. She’s a fucking idiot.

A really cute one.

Billy slows down next to her, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel for a few seconds, contemplating if he’s really going to do this or not. He caves, mumbling _fuck it_ under his breath. He rolls down his window, a few icy flakes hitting his lashes.

“You’re not _ seriously _ planning to ride that piece of junk through this, are you?” Billy drawls over the noise coming from his speakers. He notices that Heathers hair is damp, and he cringes inside at the how cold her head must be right now.

“I’m from Connecticut. This is nothing.” Heather glances at him before looking straight ahead.

Of _course_ she’s from Connecticut, rich little bitch. “Your boyfriend ditch you or something?”

Heather comes to a stop and Billy does the same in turn. She looks more haughty than necessary. “He’s _ not _ my boyfriend, we’re just dating. And it was only the girls swim practice today. He’s probably already home.”

Billy tries to ignore the relief he feels at her reluctance to call Steve her boyfriend. “Look, throw the bike in the back and I’ll give you a ride, kay?”

“Really?”

Billy takes a drag, putting on his most aloof face. “I mean, if you wanna get hypothermia then go right ahead.”

“Alright. If you_ insist_.” Heather grins. She dismounts and Billy climbs out, rounding the car to open the trunk. “You think the trunk is big enough?”

“Sure it fucking is. Just leave the hood up.” Billy says, Marlboro in hand. He pops the lid open. “ 'Course, normally I wouldn't be caught _dead_ doing this, but it’s only a ten minute drive. Otherwise I’d leave you here.” Billy grabs the bike from Heather’s hands and positions it tight inside the trunk, red titanium and wheels sticking out like a sore thumb, hood gaping open awkwardly. They both stop and stare for a moment, white powder already forming on the handlebars.

"_Yup_. Looks tacky as shit." Billy narrows his eyes and takes one last drag from his cigarette before tossing it in the snow. "Let's go before I change my mind."

“How do you know it takes ten minutes?” Heather asks as Billy walks past her to the driver's seat.

“I dunno, doesn’t everyone know you live in Scrooge-ville? Get in. I’m freezing my ass off out here.” He steps inside and the door shuts painfully loud after him.

Heather ambles to the passengers side, adjusting her ponytail in the glass before slipping into warmth and Metallica’s pounding rhythm.


	4. who's gonna drive you home?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy Hargrove Being A Generous Trashbag

When Heather enters the car Billy realizes he's not ready for this moment. She seems equally unprepared, doesn’t look at him as she puts her seatbelt on. He turns down the volume on the music, assuming she's going to hate it. 

"You don't have to do that."

Billy raises a brow. "You a fan or something?"

“Nope.” She cringes. "What even is this?"

"Metallica."

"Sounds like...death."

"That's kinda the point." 

There’s an uncomfortable silence besides the steely whine of electric guitars. Billy shifts gears and glances at Heather. She's still looking away from him. He quickly scans over the black wool of her jacket, the elegant slope of her profile, the way a tendril of hair falls over her brow. She looks pretty. Really fucking pretty. Smells nice too. His stomach does that flipping thing he’s starting to hate. 

Billy coasts to the exit and makes a right turn, flicking the speed on his windshield wipers up a notch as white flakes plummet into his field of vision. He realizes that Heather gets to watch him drive through snow for the first time. Not ideal, but it’s not like he cares. Or at least he _ shouldn’t _ care.

He can’t stand how damn quiet she is. Usually chicks are gabbing his ear off by now. "_So_...how’s swimming?"

"Oh.” She hesitates. “It’s okay, I guess."

"Well, that doesn't sound very enthusiastic." The snow’s not that bad.It’s almost like he was expecting the road to pull out from under him with the way Neil kept going on about black ice. Billy speeds up.

"I guess I'm just kinda bummed about it today."

“And why’s that?" He hates that he actually wants to know.

She pauses for a second before opening up. "I'm just not doing my best this week. It’s stupid. I mean, I haven’t lost a race yet, but I keep going under my usual time. I feel like I’m underperforming."

Billy gives her a cynical look. "Something tells me you _ always _ feel like that."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugs. "I dunno, you’ve got this _ vibe _ about you."

"What kind of vibe?”

"Like if I looked away for a second you'd start organizing my cassettes or something."

Her tone sharpens. "Yeah right, you should see my room."

Billy looks at her. She’s glaring at him, an expression he hasn’t seen on her before. He instantly likes it, wants more."I bet you have like _ one _ sock on the floor and the rest is sparkling. That to you would be a mess."

“Not true, and even if it was It’s not like there’s anything wrong with a clean room. I mean, yours is probably disgusting." 

Oh, so she _ does _ get sassy. The corner of his mouth twitches as he reaches into his jacket for another cigarette."So you're telling me that you're only Little Miss Perfect at school?"

"What are you talking about?”

Billy decides to dig into her for the hell of it, see if she squirms. “Your hand is always up in class like you’re gonna fucking _ die _ unless you answer every stupid question. You’re on every goddamn team and committee the school has to offer. You’re every teacher’s favorite pet.” He points his unlit cigarette at her.”I’m pretty sure you actually polish your locker like some kind of _ spaz _.” 

She scoffs. “Just because I participate at school doesn’t mean-”

“Bet you iron your panties.”

That sets her off, her tone shrill. "I do _ not _ ! And what, are you like, _ watching _me or something? What makes you think you know so much?"

“Nothing.” Billy says innocently, fishing his zippo lighter out of his pocket. “Just observant."

"Okay. Alright. Well, you've_ also _got a vibe." She pokes him hard in the arm. Billy gets a kick out of it, his body heating up at her getting in his personal space. 

"Oh yeah? Like what?" He lights his cigarette, eyes on the horizon as he exhales smoke in front of him. He doesn’t open his window just to see if it annoys her. 

"Like you're too cool for school." 

Oh, _ good one, _ Heather. "Well, I won't deny that." 

"Like you _ hate _ everybody." 

"I hate stupid people” Billy shifts his gaze to her as they hit a red light. It's hard not to stare at the subtle pout of her mouth. ”It's not my fault that's the majority."

"Well maybe if you actually _ talked _ to people you'd find that they weren't stupid and that you’re just really judgemental." She’s leaning towards him, eyes flashing. Billy has a powerful urge to yank her to him and kiss her. See how fiery she _ really _ gets.

"Sounds like a goddamn waste of time to me."

Heather sinks back into her seat, glaring silently out the window for a good minute, watching the houses whiz by them. Billy wonders if he went too far before she speaks again."You're totally regretting giving me a ride, aren't you? I knew this would happen."

He’s actually not at all. He's savouring every second of getting under her skin. "What do you mean, you_ knew _?"

"I know I’ve never been your cup of tea. You’ve always looked at me like I'm the worst, and now that I know you actually think I _ am _..." 

Billy keeps his expression bored, flicking ash into the dirty paper cup that’s in the holder. "I look at everyone like that. Don't flatter yourself."

"Charming."

"If it makes you feel any better, I hate your boyfriend a hundred times more than I hate you."

"Wow, _ thanks _."

"What's the attraction to that moron anyways?" Billy's been itching to ask since the party, though he’s not sure if he actually wants an answer.

"Steve’s _ not _a moron. He's sweet, he's funny, he takes me places. He’s a good guy."

His fingers tighten on the wheel, knuckles white."That’s the most boring thing I've ever heard."

"Oh? And what would be better criteria?"

Billy goes for the jugular. "Can he _ fuck_?" 

"What? Ew!" Heather smacks his arm, making him grin. He just couldn’t resist pushing her over the edge. And now that he knows it makes her touch him, he's going to do it again and again.

"I'm guessing that's a no."

"It's none of your business!" She’s clearly appalled. Face red. Billy laps it up.

"Mmm. _ Definitely _ a no."

"You're disgusting!"

Billy can’t stop smirking, rolls down the window to toss his cigarette butt. "I think you just can't handle the truth.".

Heather bursts into laughter. "What the heck, were you raised in a barn or something?" She puts her face in her hands, shaking her head. "You are a freaking_ trip. _"

He didn’t expect her to laugh. He wants more of that too. He milks it further, voice teasing. "Yeah, you like that?"

“Hmm, I dunno.” She does a sardonic pause, like she’s actually considering. “I’ll have to think about that one."

"You already know you do, but I’m sure you’ll be thinking about me anyways." Billy peeks at her. She’s blushing, eyes glued to the road. Billy decides he’s won.

The sun begins to set and the landscape shifts. Massive houses appear, huge expanses of lawn, winding driveways. The snow’s starting to dwindle into slow speckles against his windshield. "So we're in Rich-ville now. Which place is yours?"

"What, you don't know that too?" Heather mocks. 

"I guess stalking isn't my forte after all."

She gives a big sigh, but Billy knows she’s enjoying the banter. He can tell by the way she's still blushing, by the way she leans on the armrest towards him. She gestures ahead. "Keep going til you hit Chestnut. It’s the second house on the left.

Billy does exactly that, and when he pulls over to the side of the road, his eyes widen. “Jesus, your place is huge.” It’s definitely a mansion. White, and pure. A roundabout and a fountain in the front. Billy hates it. “How many servants do you have, like twenty?

Heather offers him a withering glare. “We have one housekeeper and a cook.” She opens the car door, stepping out into the cold. Billy follows suit, gaze penetrating into the walls of her sprawling house, like he’s trying to see through it. He knew she was loaded but this is a shock to the system.

He circles to the back of the Camaro. Heather’s already lifting her bike out of the trunk before he can help her.

"Why don't your parents give you a car?" Billy shuts the trunk door after her wheels touch the pavement. “Not like they can’t afford one.”

She gives him one of those holier-than-thou expressions that makes him remember why he hated her at first sight. Except now he definitely wants to rip the bike out of her hands and kiss that look off her face. "Because I don't _ want _one. I like riding my bike."

Billy rolls his eyes, leans against the side of the Camaro with his arms folded. "Gonna be kind of a shit time over the coming months, don't you think?"

"Well. Yeah." She admits.

"You know, if you need a ride…”

Heather winces. "I dunno, I think that would be kinda weird for Steve."

Billy can’t help but get pissed at that, his whole body tensing."Thought you said he wasn't your boyfriend." 

"I guess you calling him that _ constantly _ changed my mind." Heather quips, sweeping snow off her bike.

Billy snorts, annoyance dripping from him.“_Okay_. Well, just don’t expect a ride from me when you’re caught in the snow on that thing again.”

“Hey, I was doing just fine. _ You _ were the one that offered.”

He ignores that point. “Does Harrington drive you to school?” He knows no matter what answer she gives he's going to be mad about it.

“Sometimes?”

Billy’s reaching in his jacket for yet another Marlboro. There’s something about this chick that makes him want to chain-smoke like his life depends on it. “So your own boyfriend doesn’t even give you a ride?”

“We like, just started dating. We’re taking things slow.”

Billy’s eyes bore into hers. “What kind of dip-shit lets his girl bike in the cold for like an hour?”

Heather shrugs, looks at the snow-covered pavement. “It’s more like twenty-five minutes, but-”

“It’s still _ shitty_.”

They glower at each other. The snow's completely stopped now. The light slipping away.

“Look,I’m gonna go.” Heather starts walking her bike in the direction of her house, glancing back. “Thanks for the ride. See you at school tomorrow.”

Billy’s already opening the driver’s door, cigarette between his lips. “Yeah, whatever. Don’t freeze your tits off on the way there.” 

He slams the door shut and guns the engine, shooting off into the gathering dark.

* * *

The rest of the week is torture. Heather and him don’t talk again. It’s obvious she’s avoiding him. It’s almost like the ride never happened. Billy kinda blames himself. He knows he crossed multiple lines. He doesn’t regret it. It had been the most exciting thing that’s happened to him since he arrived in this shithole. Last time he felt that high was when he took a tab of acid and then rode a huge wave back in San Diego. Life gets boring real fast after something like that.

He’s sure Heather feels it too. A spark. A flame. A fucking explosion. Hell, he knows he’s been feeling it for weeks but was too damn stupid to admit it to himself. He doesn’t like to think about that too much. It only makes him feel like shit.

So he soldiers on. Smokes more than normal. Drinks more than he should. Calls Teresa up and fucks her in the back of his Camaro. It doesn’t help. Heather never leaves his mind.

Yeah, he's aware he could never really have her. He’s not a fucking idiot. He knows who he is. Where he is. Who he’s going to become. He knows who Heather’s going to become too, and he’d only hold her back. Hurt her. Fuck her up. She's too smart for that. She’s probably thought this type of thing through, knows what's good for her. That’s why she's with Steve. They’re perfect for each other.

Except for the fact that she’d much rather fuck him than Steve.

Okay, maybe he’s projecting there, but he could have sworn that’s what she wanted at the party, what she wanted when he made her blush. Steve is just arm candy. He’s absolutely sure of this. He tells himself this a lot. Especially when he sees Steve at her locker, holding her hand, making her laugh.

Billy’s not sure how much longer he can take it.

* * *

  
On Friday night, Billy’s in his room. He’s not alone. Teresa is lying face down on his mattress while he rocks into her from behind. Susan is in the next room so he tries to keep quiet, not moving fast or hard enough to make the bed squeak. Teresa won’t stop whimpering. She’s fucking annoying. Billy has to slap his hand over her mouth and tell her to shut up. He’s pretty sure that this’ll be the last time he fucks her. He’s getting real tired of her shit. Plus, her eyes are too green, her hair too red. Billy’s decided he prefers brunettes.

The phone rings. He keeps thrusting. 

Then someone’s knocking on his door and he freezes. “What?”

“Billy, phone’s for you. It’s a girl from school.” Susan’s voice is muffled through the door. “Says her name’s Heather?”

“_Fuck._” He pulls out immediately. “Yeah I’ll be there in a minute!” He gets up and grabs his jeans, pulling them on while he yanks his shirt out from underneath Teresa. She looks _ pissed._ He grins at her. “Sorry, doll. Be right back.”

He shuts his bedroom door behind him and makes a quick line to the empty kitchen, picking up the phone that Susan left lying on the counter. He puts the receiver to his ear and smiles, his whole body buzzing.

“How the hell did you get this number?”

“And hello to you too.” Heather says softly. She has a good phone voice, sweet and husky. Billy’s mind is going to really dirty places already. That’s her fault though for interrupting him while he’s balls deep in some college girl. He’s still hard. “There’s this thing called a phonebook.”

“Huh, you don’t say." He twines his fingers around the phone cord, words dripping honey. "Well, that’s real cute. You uh- lonely or something? Need some company?”

He hears her annoyed exhale. "Nope_._”

The lack of blood in Billy's head is giving him a very narrow focus. “I figure it gets pretty isolating in that big shiny house you got there. Sorta get why you're so uptight now. I think maybe you need somebody to pay you a special visit. Help you to relax for once." Billy lowers his voice. "You know, get you nice and we- ”

Heather clears her throat loudly. “Actually, I was gonna ask you for a favor. A big one."

“I was just getting to that.” Billy purrs.

She ignores him. “You’re going to laugh.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I um...I need a ride.”

Billy smirks, ardour cooling. “Yeah, that’s pretty damn funny. You know a ride to school ain’t the same as me being your personal chauffeur, right?”

“I know. Look, I’m at the cat shelter. There was a staff Christmas party and I volunteered to stay behind and clean up. Rode my bike home for like a minute and the chain broke. So now I’m back here, and like...yeah..” 

Billy notices she’s slurring slightly. “You been drinking?”

“I mean, I had a few glasses of wine and I’m a lightweight but nothing crazy.”

“Why can’t Harrington give you a ride?” 

“I uh- I dunno. Haven’t called him yet...” She drifts off. “Technically, you’re closer. And from what I remember you seem to like giving rides?”

He chuckles, totally thrilled that she called him over Steve. “Not _ really. _ Where’s this place again?”

“Glenn and Halfford. Blue building. Has a big cat painted on it.”

“Uh-huh.” Billy drawls, leaning against the counter. That actually is pretty close.

“You know, if it’s too much of a hassle I’ll just call Steve. Or like, walk.”

Billy tenses his jaw. “I’ll give you a ride.”

He hears her breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks so much. It’d really help me out.”

“Right. Well, don’t get too wasted before I show up. I get pretty impatient with that shit.” Unwanted memories of hauling Tommy into his car come to mind.Though the idea of having to carry Heather around sort of turns him on.

“You? Impatient? Hard to imagine.”

“I’m a real saint, I know. Kay, I’m leaving now. Be there in like, twenty minutes.”

“See you soon.”

Billy hangs up the phone and returns to his room where Teresa is still lying belly-down.He climbs on top of her with renewed fervor, making her whine when he slides into her again. For the next couple of minutes he pretends it's Heather who's clenching around him with every thrust. He forgets to not make the bed squeak.


	5. no more love on the run.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy makes a move.

When Billy arrives at the faded building of the Hawkins Independent Cat Society, he’s excited.

Teresa’s perfume still hangs in the air of the Camaro. He had dropped her off, then had driven here as fast as possible in the snow, wanting to follow through on the time he had given Heather. Teresa didn’t care about how he had kicked her out of his house as soon as he came. She just wanted to fuck. At least that’s what he tells himself. Guilt isn’t something BIlly does well. Not like he’s gonna see her again anyways.

He can see the twinkle of Christmas lights in the shelter as he gets out of the car. When he approaches the front door he feels like he’s going to burst out his skin. Heather opens the door before he can even knock. The first thing Billy always notices about her are those doe eyes; right now they’re teasing. She’s definitely had a few.

“Hey there, mister...”

“Hey yourself.” He leans on the doorframe, panning over her outfit. She’s wearing one of those stupid oversized Holiday sweaters; a cat wearing a Santa hat on it. Her hair is up and disheveled. Big hoop earrings. Cheeks rosy. Lips wine-stained. 

“Want me to show you some_ cats_?” She points her thumb behind her.

Billy gives a lopsided grin. “Not really, but you’re cute enough right now that I might let you.” 

Heather looks unimpressed. “Oh yeah, I forgot. You’re the cat-hater.” 

“Nah. You were just even more annoying than usual that day.”

“And you are charming as ever.” She steps back and lets him in. “Let me at least show you Rum Tum Tugger. He’s been keeping me company.”

The place looks better on the inside. The room is half-lit, filled with tacky ornaments.He can hear meowing in the distance.There’s a bunch of couches. A front desk with a miniature Christmas tree on it. An oversized orange tabby pads over to him and Billy instinctively leans down to pet it.

“Rum-Tum’s the boss in these parts.” Heather mumbles.

Billy likes cats. He’d pick a cat over a dumb dog any day. Had a white one named Luna when Mom was still in the picture. He still misses her. Almost as much as he misses Mom. “Stupid as fuck name, but he’s cool.”

“Want a cookie?” Heather motions to the front desk where there’s an overflowing tray of goodies covered in plastic-wrap. She has a child-like quality tonight that’s more than endearing. Billy could kiss her right now.

“I’m good.” 

She flops down in one of the oversized couches. He’s glad that she’s not in a hurry.

“I’m a little tipsy.”

“Yeah, i can _ see _ that.” He sits down next to her, keeping a good distance between them. He intends to get closer.

“How can you tell?”

“You’re being too nice to me.”

“I’m a nice person.” She states this as a sincere fact, eyes honest. Those eyes are doing something to him right now.He resolves in that moment to kiss her sooner than later. 

“I must bring the sass out in you then.”

Rum Tum Tugger jumps up next to Billy. Sniffs him before settling into his lap.

“Aw, he likes you!”

“He’s an idiot.” Billy scratches the purring tabby’s ears, looking around the room, taking in the staff pictures on the bulletin board. Heather’s on there, beaming with a Siamese cat in her arms. He doesn’t get how someone can be so involved in community after only being here for a month. Just adjusting to a new school was a lot for him. 

Heather’s staring at him. She’s so open right now. “Thanks for coming by the way.” 

“Yeah, it’s no big deal.” He puts an arm on the back of the couch, beginning his journey towards her. “So you gonna tell me why you called me first?” 

“I told you already. You were closer.” 

“Seems like only half the story to me.” 

“You’re also kind of funny.” She shrugs, suddenly absorbed in picking lint off the cushions. 

“Hmm, you didn’t seem to think that last time I gave you a ride.” He keeps his voice low, soothing. He has to build this carefully.

“I mean, you’re also kind of a _ jerk _but I’m okay with it.”

“You like it.”

“It amuses me.”

Billy smirks. “You’re adorable.”

Heather pokes his arm, changing the conversation. “Hey you know what I was thinking?”

“What?” Billy likes that she’s touching him. This is a good start.

“You should join the swim team.”

_Oh, here we go_. “Told you already. Not gonna happen.”

“Why not?” Heather pouts.

“I’m more of a surfer than a swimmer. And swim caps give me nightmares.”

“You surf?” 

“Yeah, all the time back in San Diego.” Billy wants to shift an inch towards Heather, but Rum-Tum won’t budge.

“That’s so neat.” Heather leans her elbow on the back of the couch, chin perched in her hand.

Billy hasn’t told anyone in Hawkins yet about his love of surfing. Talking about it now makes him homesick. “Yeah, it was fun.” 

“But you were a lifeguard too?”

“Had to get a car somehow.” Neil barely chipped in to help him get a car. Told him that saving for it would help him build character. It did, but Billy still holds it against him. 

“Did you like being a lifeguard?” Heather seems genuinely interested.

He grimaces. “Ehh not really. Helped me meet chicks, I guess. Kids are assholes.”

Now she’s inching towards him, face eager.“We should race each other. At swimming I mean.”

He didn’t see that coming. “_Why_?”

Her eyes light up, mouth in a sweet smile. “Because I like a challenge and I feel like you’d be good at it.”

She’s _ such _ an over-achiever. “_Maybe_, princess. I dunno.” He gives her a smug look. “But yeah, you’re right. I’m good.”

Her smile fades. “Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what?” He feigns innocence.

“Princess.” 

“Why not?” He glances at her red mouth, lingers there for too long. Pretending he doesn’t want her isn’t an option for him anymore. 

“I dunno, it’s a name for like a _ girlfriend _or something.” Heather’s lips are lined with some kind of gloss that he wants to taste. Billy can’t decide whether he likes her lips or her eyes more. 

“I call lots of girls princess.” 

“That’s _ so _sleazy.” 

“They seem to like it.” 

“Just...don’t.” She shifts away from him, plays with the edge of her sweater. 

“Okay, whatever.”

She’s silent for a moment, runs her gaze over him until his skin tingles. “You miss it? California?”

“Every damn day.” 

“Yeah, I feel the same.” She sighs.

“About what?”

“I miss Connecticut.” Heather’s voice is tinged with a longing that Billy feels right in his chest.

“Yeah?” 

She gives him a gentle smile. “Yeah I miss the ocean.” 

That nostalgia he usually tries to suppress hits him hard now. It hurts. He can taste the salt water, feel the grit of sand under his feet. “Fuck, me too.” 

“You gonna go back?”

“Yup, counting down the days.” 

She looks relieved, breathes out slow. “Same. I can’t wait to get out of here.”

Billy has a moment of clarity. Heather and him might actually have something in common.

Heather touches his arm again, an impish look in her eyes. “You should join the swim team.”

She’s turning him on now. He wants her hands all over him. “You’re _ pushy _when you drink.” 

“I’m not even drunk, I’m just a little loose.” She wiggles her head from side to side with a coy smile.

“Yeah, I dig it, hun. Though kinda miss stone cold sober you getting pissed at me.” Billy needs to start closing the deal now, or it might not happen. He shifts closer to her, pushing Rum-Tum off his lap. He lands on the floor with a sharp meow.

“Well, just keep being you and I’m sure it’ll happen.” 

Billy chuckles and she grins back at him. They stare at each other for too long before Heather turns away, face flushed. Billy scoots over another inch, their thighs now touching. He goes in for the kill. 

“You’re real pretty, you know that?” His timbre is deep, well-practiced.

Heather’s eyebrows raise. She still can’t make eye contact.

“Um.” She gives a nervous laugh. ”Thanks.”

“I’m gonna be honest with you.” 

“I should hope so..”

“Steve’s an absolute shithead and you could do better.” Billy knows this isn’t true. Steve is probably the most eligible person for Heather to date in this podunk town. 

She’s trying to glare at him now but lacks her usual fire. “Um, okay. I mean, we had this conversation last time. And you’re wrong. He’s a nice guy.”

“You can do better than a nice guy.” 

“Okay, like who?” 

Like she doesn’t know the answer. Billy hovers near her ear, arm on the fabric behind her, voice husky. “Me.” He swears he sees her shiver. 

“Um...” 

He lets her flounder, watches her try to form words. He wonders whether or not he should put his hand on her shoulder. Maybe in a minute. “The fact that you haven’t said anything at all says a lot, doesn’t it?.”

“I don’t think it does?” She’s beet red.

“I think you uh-” He runs his gaze over her. Makes sure he’s obvious.”- kinda have the hots for me.”

“No, I _ don’t_. Where are you getting that from?” She sounds really unconvincing to Billy’s ears. It thrills him. It’s more than enough reassurance.

“Hmm, let’s _ think_, Heather.” Billy offers a sardonic smile, voice lilting. “Why did you ask _ me _ over your boyfriend for a ride after you’ve had a few drinks? Why am _ I _the first guy you turn to? Seems strange, doesn’t it?”

“I told you why _ twice _already.”

“You’re a terrible liar.” He cocks his head, teeth running over his bottom lip. ”You’re into me.”

“You’re full of yourself.” 

“I mean, sure, the alcohol brought it out in you. But I could tell since Teresa’s party.”

“What are you even talking about?” She scowls.

“You know _ exactly _what I mean.” 

“Not at all.” She leans down and picks up Rum-Tum Tugger, places him on her lap. Pets him too roughly while staring at the ground.

“Oh, I think you do.” 

“I’m into Steve.” She inadvertently digs her fingers into Rum-Tum’s fur and he bats at her in protest.

“Yeah. _ Terrible _liar.”

“Oh my god, I should have just walked.”

“In this cold? Dumb idea.” He pauses, waits for her reply. She’s not talking. He eases up a bit, changes the focus. “Why couldn’t your parents get you?”

“I hate asking them for anything. Also, I don’t want them to know i’ve been drinking.”

Billy gets that. He’s never exactly thrilled when Neil finds him hammered. “Fair enough.”

Her body’s too tense. Demeanor icy. “We should go.” In that instant he knows he’s lost her, that he came on too strong. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Uh oh, you pissed me at me now?”

“I told you it was gonna happen.” Heather smirks. She hops up from the couch and stands in one place for a few seconds, slightly swaying. “Woah...got up too fast.” 

He stands up quick and puts a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “You good?”

“I’m fine.” She breathes. She grabs her coat from the arm of the couch, shoving her hands into the sleeves. Billy retreats his hand into his pocket and watches her pick up Rum-Tum-Tugger, disappearing with him down a dark hallway.

Billy leans against a wall near the exit, fingering at the pack of Marlboros in his jacket lining. He needs a smoke_ bad _. “Sorry you got pissed I guess.” He mutters when she returns, walking her bike towards him.

“Wow, you’re so sincere.” She shoots back. Billy opens the door and waits for her outside as Heather flicks off all the lights. 

“You should probably drink some water.”

“I’m _ fine_.” Heather joins him in the cold, bike getting stuck in the doorway before she yanks it out. She locks the door behind her, shoulders hunched. 

Billy wants to call her Ice Queen now to get a reaction but that wouldn’t be entirely accurate. He’s seen how she flares up when he calls her princess. She’s probably only mad about it because it soaks her panties. Billy likes that thought too much.

It’s okay. He hasn’t lost yet. They still have the whole drive to her house.

* * *

In the car, engine running, bike crammed into the trunk, Billy finally gets his nicotine fix. As he exhales a thick haze, he rewinds his Slayer tape.

“Do we _ have _to listen to metal again?” Heather’s leaning towards him, already easing up on the cold shoulder. He can’t blame her. The heat between them is melting his own defences pretty fast.

He fakes surprise. “I thought I’d converted you.” 

“No, it hurts my ears. Could we listen to something else?” She’s giving him a look he’d only be able to describe as _ high maintenance_. He likes it as much as he hates it. “Please?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He’s not usually one to give into a chick batting her lashes at him, but he’s already done a lot more for her than he’d do for most.

She turns the radio on, moving the dial to some shitty pop station. Billy shifts gears and the car lurches into motion. He glares at her when “Carribean Queen” fills the air, cat-call whistles and all. He rolls down his window a few inches to flick out his ash.

“_Seriously? _” He sucks sharply on the last of his cigarette as they speed down the dark road.

“It’s my turn to irritate you now.” She gives him a cocky grin.

“How many turns do you need?” He slows down at a stop sign. Looks both ways purely for her benefit. “Pretty sure you’ve taken all of them.”

“And do you hit on every girl that irritates you?” 

“You’re the exception.” He winks at her to make her squirm. It works. “Doesn’t hurt that you’re easy on the eyes.”

She doesn’t respond, going flustered and quiet as the radio serenades them. Billy gets pissed at how cheesy and dumb the song is. Plus It’s hard not relate every word to Heather somehow. _I lose my cool when she steps in the room, and I get so excited just from her perfume._ He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, tosses his cigarette butt out the window, already thinking about his next one. 

Now Heather’s leaning close to him again, challenge in her eyes. She’s such a strange mix of shy and aggressive. He doubts he’ll ever get used to it. “We should race.” 

Billy snorts. “You’re still on that, are you?”

“Come on, how fast are you?”

“I dunno, pretty fast. I’m sure I’d beat any dude on the swim team easy. Those guys are fucking scrawny.”

“This is why we need you on the team!” She bats at his arm. She reminds him of an eager puppy, nipping at his ankles. He can almost see her tail wagging. She’s too cute. 

“You’re starting to annoy me, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“You love it.” He grins. “Look, I’ll race you if it’ll get you to shut up about it. Just don’t get mad when you lose.”

“Yeah right. I’m gonna _ win_.” She oozes confidence. 

Billy’s ready to race her from her tone alone, his competitive nature kicking in. “So you’re racing me just to show off.”

“Maybe.” She teases.

That does it. “Alright, on Monday I’ll race you.”

“Lets go now.”

“Now?” He can’t _ believe _ this chick. 

She laughs at his confusion. “Yeah, it’ll be fun.” 

“You are _ full _of surprises tonight.” Though he has to admit, seeing Heather strip down to her underwear would be too perfect. He’s getting hot under the collar just thinking about it.

“Not really, I’ve swam there before at night.”

“You’re such a little _ rebel_.” He imagines her sneaking out her mansion window, riding her bike down to the school to pick a lock and swim laps in the dark. “Anyone else know you’re this fucking weird?” 

“I’m not weird!” She pushes at his arm. “I just get bored.” 

“Don’t you have a curfew?”

“Not until eleven. And it’s only like nine-thirty now.” Her eyes are pleading.”C’mon, we _ have _ to race.”

Billy gives in. “Okay. I’ll race you tonight. But if I win..” He offers her a dangerous leer. “..I get a prize.”

“What kind of prize?” She looks at him skeptically.

He beams wide at her. “I get to kiss you.”

Heather grips the armrest, does one of those breathy nervous laughs again.“Oh my _ god. _ You’re _ so _ typical.”

“It’s the only way I’ll do it.” He shrugs.

She folds her arms, haughty-rich-girl mode enabled. “I mean, I’m gonna win so it’s not like it matters.”

Billy smirks. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

“You’re doing it again.” Heather says in frustration. She’s so damn easy to get riled up.

“What?”

“Calling me things.”

He gives her his most seductive glance, eyes predatory. “Honestly, It’s kinda automatic when I’m with a pretty girl.” Also, he knows she’ll keep her hands on him if he keeps provoking her. It’s worked like a charm so far.

Her neck and cheeks bloom bright pink. “That’s _ so _ lame.” 

Teasing her delights him way too much. She gets so flushed, so exasperated. Billy has to keep himself from staring at her, forcing his eyes on the road. He just _ knows _ she’s wet. “You don’t have to be ashamed of liking it, _ princess_.” 

“I do not! You’re so-” 

“Then why are you blushing, _ baby_?” He chuckles, waiting for her to paw at his arm again.

“Being embarrassed is not the same as enjoying it!” She huffs, poking at the fabric of his jacket. 

“Fine.” Billy turns a corner that’ll take them directly to Hawkins High. He’s actually getting pretty excited for this, body humming with anticipation.

“Just treat me like I’m one of the guys. Like I’m Steve or something.” 

If she’s trying to provoke_ him _ now, it’s working. “Then you _ really _wouldn’t like what I’d call you.” 

The Hawkins High School parking lot is deserted. Billy’s wheels crunch over gravel that had been laid down since the last snowfall. He parks in his usual spot, feels weird at being at the same place he usually tries to leave as soon as possible. The radio’s playing Tina Turner now. _ I’m your private dancer, dancer for money, I’ll do what you want me to do. _ Billy holds back a laugh,snorts and rolls his eyes instead. They’re _ definitely _listening to Slayer when he drops her off.

He reaches an arm into the backseat, passes a clear bottle full of fluorescent orange liquid to Heather. ”Drink this. Don’t want you fainting on me like you almost did back there.”

She analyzes the label. “Gatorade?” 

“Gotta stay hydrated.” He sparks up another cigarette. “Y’know, electrolytes and shit.”

“I am pretty thirsty actually.“ Heather breaks the seal with a twist and gulps down almost the entire bottle in one go. She casually wipes her mouth off with the back of her hand. “Thanks.”

“Jesus.” Billy grabs the bottle from her, grinning. “Good thing I made you drink that. You would have drowned for sure.” He pauses, exhaling a stream of smoke in her direction.”Real missed opportunity for mouth to mouth though.” Heather doesn’t dignify that with a response, just scoffs, shaking her head.

He swigs the last remnants and chucks the bottle behind him. “You ready”?

Heather’s sporting a look that he’s never seen on her before tonight. Pure arrogance. 

“Let’s do this.”

Billy can’t wait to kick her ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy dealing with tipsy or wasted people is the trope I can't stop writing.


	6. tide is high.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather gives Billy whiplash.

Heather slips her key into the back door of the Hawkins High pool.

“How exactly is it that you have a key again?"

Heather shrugs. “I’m usually the last one to leave, so coach ended up giving me one so he wouldn’t have to wait around for me.”

“Let me guess, gotta work on your breaststroke?” Billy’s eyes gleam at her. He’s leaning against the cement wall of the building, watching Heather’s downturned lashes.

Heather ignores his provocation. “Haven’t lost a race yet.” 

The door opens and Billy sees the blue lights of the pool emanate in the dark. “Kinda creepy in here.”

“Scared?” Heather shoots him a coy look and walks through the door. 

“No, just is.” Billy follows after her, a wave of chlorine smell hitting him. It’s a huge place, with two large swimming pools. He wonders if Hawkins municipality spent their entire budget on their highschool swim team. He’s not sure why he hasn’t been in here yet. Maybe he didn’t want the memories of his lifeguarding days to come ricocheting back to him. He knew the nostalgia would hurt him. It already does.. 

Heather reaches for the light switch. Billy darts his hand out over hers, her skin soft and cool under his palm. 

“Let's leave them off.”

“Why?”

“More fun that way.” Billy’s starts removing his leather jacket and boots, relishing the way Heather gawks at him as he strips down to his underwear. Thanks to the cold, he actually wore his black briefs today. He’s tempted to go completely nude but he knows she’s not ready for that. 

He walks to the pool edge. Looks over his shoulder at Heather with a smirk before diving sharp into the blue. It’s a pleasant shock to his system. When he comes to the surface he whips his hair back with a deep inhale. “Jesus, that feels good.” He treads water, sees Heather sliding off her jacket and folding it, placing it next to his messy pile. Billy glides towards her. He sets his elbows on the ledge, his eyes on her bold, provoking. She glances down at him sheepishly and slides her sweater and t-shirt over her head. Billy bites his bottom lip with a grin when he sees the lacy pink of her bra.

“Do you have to_ watch _?”

“Aren’t you like, constantly half naked in front of the whole swim team?” 

Heather plays with edge of her jeans before unbuttoning them. “They don’t _ stare _ like that.”

Billy flashes his teeth at her. “Maybe if you didn’t do it so slow like you’re fucking teasing me..”

Heather turns her body away in embarrassment. “Why do you _ always _ have to make things weird?” She leans over as she pulls her jeans down, like this isn’t the best view he could possibly get right now. The sight of her matching pink panties hugging the round flesh of her ass makes his cock twitch. 

Heather spins to face the pool and Billy’s already impressed by her sleek dive into it. She comes up for air, wipes the water from her face.She swims up close next to him, cute as ever, and Billy has to hold back from putting his mouth on hers right then and there. He swears he sees a look in her eyes like she wants him to do exactly that.

“So, you ready to race or what?”

Billy gives her a provocative once-over. “Are _ you _ ready?” 

“I’ve been training like crazy. I’m more than ready.” Heather pauses for a second, looking at the other pool behind him where there are multiple lanes. “You know what? We should do it super official. Like on the starting blocks.”

He looks over his shoulder at the row of small platforms. “Sure.”

Heather pulls herself out of the water, striding towards the diving blocks and Billy follows, gaze roving over the glistening skin of her back and bottom from behind, the fabric of her wet underwear clinging to her. He can’t believe he’s this lucky. She steps onto the platform. “You can do a flip turn, right?”

“Yeah, I can do a fucking turn.” Billy gets up onto the block adjacent to her, runs his eyes over her dripping curves.

“And you’ve dived off one of these before...”

Billy glares at her. “Are you serious right now?” 

Heather shoots him a grin. “Just wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourself. Let’s do a front crawl to the wall and back. You know, something_ basic _ that anyone could do.”

“Aw, you’re _ cute _.” He schmoozes right back at her. “I’ll try to go easy on you. I’d tell you not to cry after but something tells me you’re a sore loser.”

“You should count us in.” Heather rests her hands on her knees. “Maybe it’ll help give you a slight edge to make you feel better. Least I could do.”

Billy smirks. “You’re a real cocky one, aren’t ya?

“Only trying to help. Come on, count us in. Let’s go.”

Billy adjusts his weight on the board, leaning forward. “Get ready to pucker up, princess.”

“Oh my _ god _ , just _ do _ it.” 

Billy gives a brief chuckle, then settles into starting position. “On your mark. Get set.” Both of them tense into tight form.”_ Go _.”

Billy breaks the surface, kicking into a smooth front crawl that’s as natural as breathing. His arms and legs move in fluid tandem, head turning for a quick breath after several strokes. He’s rusty, a fish out of water for months, but this is his _ home _. A rush sets through his veins, a giddy sensation of freedom.

He reaches the other side and does a quick flip, pushing himself off the wall. He knows he said he’d take it easy on Heather but his competitive nature is kicking in. He revs up his momentum, and on his next breath he sees her right next to him. She’s _ good _. Billy pushes himself harder than he had anticipated, legs moving hard and strong, arms knifing into the surface.

When Billy closes in on the wall, his eyes are open and stinging under the water. He sees Heather touch it a quick moment before he does. He lifts his head out of the water with a gasp. He sees her clutching the wall, chest heaving. 

“You’re _ fast _!” Heather blurts out, like she was expecting to leave him in the dust. 

“Yeah, not fast enough.” Billy grits out through hard breaths, hand running running over his face. “You’re a fucking torpedo. Jesus.”

Heather’s radiating victory, glowing with pride. “Still, I’m surprised. You’re not too bad.”

“Yeah, hilarious.” He holds onto the tile, wiping his hair back, playing it cool. “Well, congratulations, I guess.”

“And I’m _ still _kinda tipsy, i’m not even at full form.” She brags.

“Yeah and I haven’t been training like an Olympian for over a month.” 

Heather grins, dips under the pool divider and gets into his lane. “We should rematch. Like, when I’m totally sober, and after you’ve practiced for a bit.”

“Yeah?”

She floats towards him, hand grazing the wall, mouth in a teasing smile. “Yeah, I’m gonna destroy you. Again.” 

Billy’s dazed from how purely seductive she is in this moment. Gleaming-wet and confident, chocolate eyes flirting with him.

“Mmm, pretty _ and _ humble.” Billy chuckles, getting closer, drawn to her like a magnet, their faces almost touching. There’s a moment of stillness, a flare of desire between them that’s unmistakable. It burns him. He can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Heather leans in first. 

Her mouth is so soft. Wet and gentle against his. Before he knows it, his hand is on the back of her head, his tongue slipping between her lips. She opens to him easily, hungrily, wrapping her arms around his neck. She lets him lead her, his tongue gliding over hers, teeth pulling tenderly on her bottom lip before he kisses her slow. 

She’s so sweet, the way she sighs a little when he deepens the kiss, when he grazes his thumb across her jaw. It’s such a tease, the way her skin slides on his under the water. She gets even closer,their bodies pressed tight together. She writhes slow and sensual against him and he groans faintly,his cock instantly hard against her belly. It doesn’t seem real. It’s too perfect.

She suddenly pulls away and the spell breaks. “We shouldn’t-”

Billy jerks her back to him, presses his mouth firm against hers until she pushes at his chest. 

“Billy, _ stop _. We can’t.”

He releases her, confused, horny. “Why the hell not?”

“It’s wrong.”

Billy shouldn’t be surprised. He should have seen this coming. It still pisses him off. “Feels pretty right to me. And from the way you were humping me I’m pretty sure you liked it.”

Heather retreats back under the divider, putting a barrier between them. “I just don’t like kissing someone else when I’m seeing Steve.”

Billy snorts, anger unfurling in his gut. _ “You _ kissed _ me _.”

“I-I messed up.” 

“What the fuck.” Billy laughs harsh, words bitter. “Why the hell is this asshole so important to you? Does he give you good dick or something?”

Heather opens her mouth in shock. “Why would you ask me that? You’re _ so _ perverted! ”

“Why can’t you answer the question?”

“Why are you so jealous?”

It _ enrages _ Billy when people accuse him of that. He ducks under the pool divider into her lane, running a hand through his wet hair, tone seething. “Are you trying to _ make _ me jealous? Are you _ fucking _ with me or something?” 

Heather tenses up, looks helpless. “I’m sorry, I-” 

“_You _ call me up to give you a ride home.” He closes in on her, eyes blazing. “Then _ you _ drag me here to fucking _ swim _ with you. And then after you say you’re not into me, _ you _ kiss me. And _ I’m _ the sleazebag? Fuck off.”

“I’m _ really _sorry...” She almost whispers. She’s starting to tear up.

Billy hates when chicks pull the crying card. Now he feels guilty for no reason. “Jesus, don’t start the fucking waterworks.” 

“Then don’t be mean to me.” She looks away, lower lip quivering. 

“Fuck.” Billy breathes. He doesn’t want to see her stupid tears right now. He stares at the ceiling for a few seconds, trying to collect himself. He suddenly feels really cold. “Alright. Whatever. I’m taking you home.” 

Billy hoists himself out of the pool in one quick motion and heads over to his pile of clothes. He pulls down his soaked briefs, not caring if she sees his dick, that he’s still half hard. Actually, he wants her to. He struggles with his jeans as the wet of his legs impedes him. He looks behind him and sees Heather standing over her own clothes, her back to him, undoing her bra. He can’t stop another rush of desire hitting him.

“You’re the most confusing chick I’ve ever fucking met.” He fumes. “Where’s Ms. Priss now? You play coy so well I almost believed you.” 

Her voice is tense, miserable. “I’m not going to wear wet underwear in the cold. Don’t look at me.”

“_Fine. _” He turns away from her, yanking the rest of his clothes onto his limbs. He’s so mad at her he could scream. When he’s finally dressed he leans against the wall facing the exit.. After a minute she comes up next to him, eyes down, looking cold and wet under her coat. Billy hates himself for wanting to hold her, kiss her again, make her stop looking so pathetic. 

They silently exit the back door and Heather locks it behind her.

“I’m sorry.” She says again. She looks guilty as hell. It makes him feel like shit.

Billy gnaws at the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, whatever. You had a few drinks, I guess.”

“Um...yeah.” 

Billy feels like shit all the way to the car.

When Billy starts the engine of Camaro, he blasts heat and cranks up the music, barely registering that its fucking Culture Club. It doesn’t cover the tension; the ride is wordless for several minutes.The night feels sharp, piercing into his skin.He wanted to kiss her but this is all wrong. He’s strained everywhere, his chest tight. He needs a goddamn cigarette. 

“I don’t know what came over me.” She says softly.

Billy exhales hard through his nose, glaring at the road. “It’s not fucking rocket science, Heather.”

She breathes out slow, anxious hands wringing. Billy doesn’t know what to say to her. Wouldn’t talk to her even if he did, his ego hovering on obliteration. He didn’t think of what would happen _ after _ they kissed. Never anticipated the rage and resentment he would feel when she pulled away and claimed loyalty to Steve over him. He never thought of the possibilities, the consequences. He was stupid, only thinking with his dick again. Doesn’t help that she beat him at something he’s pretty good at too. Fucking bitch. He should have just taken her home right away. 

The Camaro lurches to a stop in front of her big house, and once again Billy hates the sight of it. He’s out the door before Heather even takes off her seatbelt. He wrenches the bike out of the trunk, thrusts it into her arms when she trudges near to him,looking little-girl-lost.

“I really like you, you know.” Heather’s voice is choked. “I’m just...confused.”

Billy looks somewhere in the distance, avoiding her gaze. His teeth worry at his lower lip for a second before he mutters. “Yeah. I know.”

“I _ am _attracted to you.” She confesses. “Like, a lot.” 

Billy can’t help how his breath catches. He hides it with a sneer. “Obviously.”

“I just need to think about this.”

“Do whatever the hell you want.” Billy shrugs. “Not my problem.”

“I’m sorry...” She meets his gaze, puppy dog eyes glistening. “I messed up.”

She really needs to stop pulling that cute and pitiful shit on him. It’s making him want to kiss her better. “Jesus, It’s _fine_. Just forget about it, alright.” He slams the trunk shut, starts circling to the driver's seat.

“I don’t know if I can.” He hears her mumble, voice tinged with longing.

Billy stops in his tracks, feeling a crackle of heat in his body. He looks back at her, predatory glint in his eye again. But cruel this time. Vengeful. “Well, baby-” He yanks his door open. “Guess you’re just gonna have to fucking deal.” 

He’s in the car before Heather can say anything else, door slamming, engine revving. He whips out onto the road, riding fast and dangerous down her street. When he glances in his rear view mirror, she’s gone, only the dark road behind him.

* * *

_ Billy’s in the forest. Dark, green and dewy. His bare feet pass over dirt and rock, wet pebble, rough sand. He’s been here before. _

_He ducks down under branches. It’s pitch black but he can see clearly. Branch and vine. Branch and vine. A soft wash of sound hums in his ears. Waves lapping. He’s naked. It’s warm._

_He sees a glimmer of light in the distance, ethereal, prickling through leaves. Hears a laugh, bell-like. He turns toward it. Sees movement, a radiant star rushing through trees. He follows it, feels it drawing him in. He’s deep in wet thicket, his hands pushing at branches that open around him like a gateway. Bramble brushes his skin, moisture dripping into his eyes. His feet slide in mud._

_He bursts onto the other side. He sees vast ocean under a full moon big and bright. Wind blows at him. Warm. Inviting. Salt air and seaweed. He walks slowly towards the incoming tide. Finally home. Finally._

_Heather is at the ocean’s edge. Standing naked and pure in the moon’s glow. Hair long and wild, rippling behind her like the water that flows over her feet. She reaches an arm out to him. He’s at her side. Takes her hand in his. Her skin shimmers like opal._

_“You came.” She whispers._

_“I had to.” His mouth doesn’t move. She understands._

_She smiles, motioning towards the dark expanse of ocean. “Look.”_

_The waves light up in phosphorescent blues. Neon and unearthly. Illuminating the darkness. Moving in rhythmic color towards them. They splash over his feet and he laughs. It’s been so long since he’s seen this._

_“It’s like magic.” She squeezes his hand._

_“Red tide. Happens every once in awhile. Mom used to take me down here to see it.”_

_Heather’s eyes are deep. They tell him everything. “You’ll see it again.” _

_She’s so beautiful. Billy wraps his arms around her and kisses her. Her skin warm and wet against his. He feels her melt into him. She tastes like ocean, like moonlight. He’s afraid if he stops, it’ll end._

_She starts to dissolve into sparkling ether, as luminous as the water._

_“Don’t go.” He holds her tight. His vision is swimming. He can’t see a thing. She’s going to vanish from his arms._

_He feels her soft palm on his cheek._

_“I’m right here.” _

_ BILLY! _

* * *

Billy wakes up with a jolt. Susan is knocking at his door, calling to him.

“_Billy. _”

“What...” He groans, reality sledgehammering him in the face. He plants his pillow over his head, burrowing into the covers. He can still smell sea water, feel lips pressed to his. 

“I _ said, _ phone’s for you. It’s that girl again.”

“_What? _”

“That same girl that called last time. Could you _ please _ tell her not to call this early? Neil almost had a fit.”

The mention of Neil startles him to sharp clarity. 

“Jesus Christ.” He tears back his blankets, shoving his legs into pajama bottoms. He staggers towards the kitchen, grabbing the phone off the counter. Susan’s rummaging through cupboards next to him for cereal. He turns away from her and places the phone against his ear.

“Are you _ insane_?” He hisses through clenched teeth.

“I had to talk to you.” Heather says weakly. 

“At six in the goddamn morning?” Billy keeps glancing behind him at Susan. Eyes scanning the dining room. Neil’s not here. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“It’s a Monday. Aren’t you up by now?”

_"Now _ I am.” He snaps. He tries to keep his voice low, but Susan is looking at him suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Um..” Her voice cracks. She clears her throat. “I broke up with Steve.”

Billy nearly implodes. Heart stopping. He can’t say anything, throat dried up.

Heather continues nervously. “I just...needed to tell you.”

“When did this happen?” He runs a hand through his hair, breathing out shakily. He’s sweating.

“Last night.”

Billy’s palm slides down his face. He feels dizzy. He’s not sure whether he’s still dreaming or not. “Okay. Well. Thanks for sharing, I guess. Did this really warrant a phone-call?” 

“Maybe.” She’s silent for a moment. “ And..um.. I think you’re going to get mad at what I’m about to ask you next...”

“Probably.”

He hears her exhale hard. “...Can I have a ride to school?”

Billy would throw the phone across the room if it wasn’t attached to a cord. “_ Jesus. _ You _ are _ insane.”

“My bike chain is still broken...” She protests. He can almost see her giving him those puppy-dog eyes again.

“Can’t your butler take you or something?” He’s winding the phone cord around his hand, muscles tense, pushing at Max’s skateboard with his foot. It rolls across the floor, slowing down before it hits the wall with a light thud.

“We don’t _ have _ a butler. And I feel weird asking my parents for a ride.”

“And you don’t feel weird asking _ me _?” Billy grits out. He can’t turn her down for some reason though. Maybe because he just dreamed of her being an ethereal light being a few minutes ago. “Fuck. Fine. I’ll drive you. Just get your chain fixed, alright. Or get a goddamn car.”

“When will you be here?”

“Fuck, I dunno.” He sighs. He glances at the clock on the wall. “Like quarter to eight.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a bit.” She says lightly, voice laced with anxiety. ”Um. Thanks again for the ride.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Billy slams the phone down in the cradle. Susan jumps, touches his arm as he walks by, eyebrows raised at him. Billy snorts, heads to his room. He resists slamming the door off its hinges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Billy sees in his dream is a real thing called bioluminescence. Happens to red tides at night. 
> 
> [ Check it out](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fvob6L8q3I8&list=LLivhBZErg75Nmx3osMSuIfw&index=2&t=0s)


	7. i'm in too deep.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy lays down some groundrules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is LONG. Lots of dialogue. Try to stay awake lol.

Billy slams his dresser drawers shut, chewing at his lip, tense as he slides a white t-shirt over his head. He goes through his morning routine in an agitated trance. Distracted. Mind racing.

He shouldn’t be this frustrated. He shouldn’t be this confused. Wasn’t _ he _the one who offered to give Heather a regular ride to school last week? Wasn’t he the one fantasizing about Heather ditching Steve for him? Didn’t he even tell her that she should?

It’s the way she _ does _ things. Unexpected. Erratic. Childish. It’s the way she _ asks _ things of him. The way she gives him a vibe that she’s gonna ask for _ a lot _. It’s the way he’s already giving her what she wants and he barely knows her. She thinks she can have it all because she’s cute. Because she's been given everything she wants on a silver platter her whole damn life. What's she going to want later? What weird surprise is she going to spring on him next? Billy doesn’t like surprises. 

He didn’t see this coming.Didn’t expect Heather to _ actually _break up with Steve. He expected a stolen kiss at most. He was just going on instinct when he tried to make a move on her, not thinking about anything other than the moment. Billy just says things. Billy just does things. Where it leads to he doesn’t care. He lives on impulse. Sometimes it gets him in trouble. He’s had enough experience to know it leads to regrets.

This is happening too fast.

He has to admit though. He's going to feel pretty damn good when he rolls up to school today with Heather in his car. When he sees Steve Harrington’s face.

Billy stops at that thought, mouth pulling into a grin.

It’s going to be _priceless_. 

* * *

Billy waits in the Camaro for Max, smoking and listening to Motley Crue. Max manages to make him wait even after he told her to be ready early. She opens the door, starts to slip into the passenger seat.

“Backseat.” Billy doesn’t look at her,a halo of smoke wafting around his head.

“Why?” 

“Picking a girl up.”

Max pushes the seat down hard. “Great.” She lands in the back with an annoyed thud.

Billy pulls out onto the road faster than he should in the snow. Old habits die hard. The sun is still rising in a reddish haze over the horizon when they reach the end of Cherry Lane, light making frost sparkle.

“Who’s this girl again?”

“Someone from school.” Billy drawls out; dry, evasive. It only makes Max more curious.

“Well, duh. What’s her name?” 

Billy pauses, takes another slow inhale of nicotine. Last thing he needs is Max pestering him right now. “Heather.” He makes his tone a warning.

Max ignores the hint. “So is she your new girlfriend or something? What happened to that Teresa girl?”

“She’s _ not _my girlfriend. Neither was Teresa.”

“So like, you just have sex with them? _ Gross _.”

His eyes shoot daggers at her through the rearview mirror. “None of your fucking business what I do, shitbird.”

Max scowls, her arms crossed tightly, staring at passing houses. Minutes go by, wordless. Max places the soles of her scuffed sneakers on the back of the passenger seat. Billy’s nostrils flare when he catches her, cigarette butt flicking out the window. 

“Thought I told you to stop doing that, Max.” Billy meets her gaze in the mirror with a look that would make most people’s hair stand on end.

She rolls her eyes unphased, feet retreating as she glances out the window. “Why are we driving _ past _the school?”

“Because she _ lives _past the school, genius.” 

“Well, she must be special. You won’t even drive me past the arcade ‘cause it’s _ too far _apparently.

Max is such an ungrateful asshole sometimes. “Hey, anyone who puts their feet up in my car gets bare minimum. You’re lucky I even fuckin’ take you there.” 

Blue eyes meet in the car mirror, glowering and stormy for a moment before Max looks away. She slouches deeper into the seat, releasing an indignant sigh.

“You’ve got a real attitude problem these days,you know that? It isn’t cute.” 

“_I _have an attitude problem?” Max scoffs. “You’re the freaking poster child.”

“Don’t start with me, Max.” Billy keeps his tone low. He knows it’s more threatening that way. “Unless you wanna walk from now on.”

“I’m telling Neil that you’re being shitty again.” She grumbles, giving him more stink eye.

“Yeah? Wait ‘til I tell him I caught you coming home smelling like a fucking _ grow-op _the other day.” Billy smirks at the sudden fear in her eyes. “You a lil’ stoner now, Max? You get high with your little friends?” 

That shuts her up real quick. “Ugh, you’re such a _ jerk. _” She goes back to looking out the window, jaw clenched.

Billy feels warm triumph rise in his chest. He always knows how to take her down a notch. He’s probably too smug about outwitting a thirteen year old girl, but she’s so goddamn mouthy these days she’s practically asking for it. He’ll take her down any chance he can get. Arrogant little twerp. 

* * *

When they reach Heather’s house, Billy’s hesitant to pull into her driveway. He parks against the curb. Honks his horn twice. Max bursts forward in her seat.

“Holy shit.” Max breathes.“This is her place?”

“_Yup _.” Billy lets the last letter pop from his mouth, not about to explain more. He sees Heather’s white front door open in the distance, and his whole body tightens up, stomach fluttering.

“So you’re dating a millionaire?”

“Jesus, would you stop with the fucking questions?” Billy clicks opens the glove compartment and grabs his aviators. He needs a buffer from the world right now.

“Alright, just...wasn’t expecting this.” She cranes her neck forward, peering at Heather’s petite form approaching them. “That’s her? She’s pretty.”

Billy puts his sunglasses on, not responding. Everything goes sepia. Including Heather, who’s walking past the front of his car, circling to the passenger seat. Her hair is worn down and wild, draped over one shoulder. Her large hoop earrings catch the light, shimmering and opalescent. Billy flashes back to his dream and gets goosebumps up his back.

Heather opens the door, eyes averted.“Um, hi…” She sees Max in the back as she sits down, and smiles at her. “Oh, hello. Who’s this?”

“Stepsister.” Billy mumbles, head tilted back against his seat.

Max shoots Billy a glare for the lack of introduction. “I’m Max.” 

Heather twists and extends her hand. Max takes it slow and wary. “Nice to meet you, Max. I’m Heather. I really love your hair by the way.” 

“Um. Thanks.” 

Heather turns to face the road while Max looks at Billy through the mirror with raised eyebrows and a smirk. Billy’s glad he’s wearing shades. He rewinds his Motley Crue tape, still barely acknowledging the girl next to him.

“Hey, I know this song.” Heather says as they start moving, “Looks That Kill” playing from his speakers. 

“Yeah, who fucking doesn’t.” Billy mutters.

He can sense Heather bristle next to him. She stays quiet. Billy wonders what she would say if his stepsister wasn’t in the car. He’s annoyed that Max is here, creating a barrier between them. She’s always in the way.

Heather and Max end up chatting the entire way there, Heather asking all of the questions with genuine interest. She wants to know how school is, what Max feels about Hawkins, what movies she likes, what music she listens to. Max actually doesn’t seem to mind answering honestly, neither of them bothering to include him in their conversation. Billy has hand it to Heather, she’s good at covering tension.

Billy arrives at Hawkins High, parking in his usual spot with fifteen minutes to spare. He’s rarely this early. Heather gets out of the car to let Max out.

Max peeks in the car at Billy before she goes. “Hey, Dustin’s mom is taking us all out for milkshakes after school so...won’t be here.” She leans in further, speaking under her breath at him. “Could you _ be _ more awkward? What _ was _that?” She pushes the seat back for Heather and leaves.

Heather climbs back in and the car suddenly seems too small. Billy feels inside his jacket for another cigarette but the pack is empty.

“I know you’re mad at me.” Heather says softly. Billy permits himself to look at her. She’s all vulnerable eyes and flowing locks. “I’m not totally sure _ why _you still are though. I thought you wanted this?”

“What the hell gave you that idea?” He scans over the way her earrings frame her face, how soft her hair looks. He wants to touch it.

Heather’s jaw drops. “You’re not _ really _going to play that game, are you? You told me I should dump Steve. I thought you wanted me to be with you.”

Billy snorts. “You sure assume a lot.”

Her brows crease together, confused. “But I thought-”

“Look”, Billy takes off his sunglasses, tosses them on the dashboard.. “You’re cute and all, but I just said that crap ‘cause I was bored and thought we could fool around for a bit. It didn’t actually _ mean _anything.”

Heather folds her arms. She’s not buying it. “You seemed to get pretty butt-hurt for a guy that was just _ bored _.”

“You’re looking way too deep into it.”

“Why did you give me a ride today then?” 

“I’m just very charitable.” 

Heather’s shoulders sink. "You think I should have stayed with Steve..”

“No. But that’s just common sense.” 

“You’re so typical.” Heather laughs, but she’s clearly hurt, maybe even embarrassed. She tucks her hair behind her ear. “You don’t even want to hang out with me?"

Billy thinks of the possibility of never kissing her again. Of never getting past first base. He doesn’t like it. “I never said that.”

“So...you want to hang out?” 

“I _ guess_.” Billy shrugs. That makes Heather’s face light up in relief. She never seems to hide her feelings. It’s as sweet as it is annoying. "Nothing _serious _though." 

“Okay...”She shrugs back at him. “Nothing serious.”

"It would just be hanging out, not me buying you dinner or some shit like that."

"I don't need anyone to buy me dinner."

Billy chuckles at that understatement. "You definitely don't."

"I just want to have fun with you." She looks so hopeful, so naive. 

"Okay." Billy can't believe how on board she is for this. "So we won't call it anything. I won't owe you anything. We'll just..." He rakes his gaze over her, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. "..have fun."

Her eyes dart away from his, cheeks pink. "That's fine. I mean, I'm pretty busy anyways."

“Whatever, just don’t get your hopes up, alright. I’ve had way too many chicks pull that shit on me. Spare me the tears.” Billy leans over her to open the glove compartment, sparks flying up his spine when he brushes her arm. He takes his other pack of Marlboros and slips them into his jacket, opening his door with a grunt. 

When his feet touch the ground, Billy notices Steve’s car pull up, parking several spots away from them. Billy grins as he slams his door shut. He leans against his Camaro, placing a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it with relish. This is going to be good.

Heather’s soon at his side, opens her mouth to say something but snaps it shut when she sees Steve’s car. She tenses when he opens the door, his brown-mopped head popping up into view.

“We should go.” Heather mutters, starting towards the school.

Billy grabs her forearm, pulling her back against the Camaro, eyes glued to Steve’s head. “We still got ten minutes.”

“I..I have to get stuff from my locker.” 

Steve spots them. Freezes like a deer about to get run over. Perfect. Billy reaches an arm around Heather and yanks her tight to him, grip crushing. He feels her try to squirm away. He grips harder. Billy leers at Steve, taking a deep drag of smoke, adrenaline soaring.

“What are you doing?” Heather whispers, elbow digging into his ribs.

Billy winces but doesn’t let up. He leans in close to her ear, lips brushing her neck to be extra obvious. “Come on, baby. Thought you wanted this.” Heather turns her head to glare at him. Billy kisses her firm on the mouth.

To his surprise she doesn’t fight it, feels her give in to him right away. His body flares up at her quick surrender. He deepens the kiss, almost getting carried away before he rips his head from hers to see Steve’s reaction. It’s worth it.

Steve looks absolutely crestfallen, mouth parted in shock. He shakes his head at Heather in total disgust before he turns and walks away. Billy chuckles in his throat. Victory is sweet.

Heather wrenches herself from Billy’s grasp. “I can’t _ believe _you!”

“What, like he wasn’t going to find out? Word travels fast around here.”

Her eyes are blazing fury. “I wanted to tell him personally.”

“You just did.” Billy smirks.

“You’re a mean person, Billy.” She points her finger at him like that’s somehow threatening. “That was flat out _ mean _.”

“You seem to like mean. Kissed me back like you wanted me to give it to you right here in the parking lot.” Billy gives her a suggestive look. “You into being watched?”

Heather stares at him in disbelief. “Oh my _ god _ . What is _ wrong _with you?” 

“Never thought you’d be into public stuff. But that’s kinda hot.” Billy exhales a silky haze in her direction, oozing smugness.

“You’re sick.” Heather snaps, fanning smoke away from her face. “I’m leaving now.” She turns and abandons him and the Camaro, striding towards the school in a huff.

“See you in class!” Billy calls after her, corner of his mouth twisting up when she looks back to scowl at him. He continues his nicotine-fuelled ritual, reliving the sensation of Heather’s lips against his, over and over until he flicks his cigarette butt in the snow. He stares at the highschool, beige and bland, and remembers that Max isn’t going to need a ride home today. That he’s going to be alone with Heather again. His body thrums with anticipation. 

He’s going to need more of her soon. A lot more. 

And just kissing isn’t going to cut it.

* * *

It’s a weird day. Billy sits in the back of every class like he normally does, except Heather can’t stop glancing over her shoulder to look at him every few minutes. It’s probably because he’s staring at the back of her head with a gaze hot enough to melt her skin right off. Everytime she glances back at him he just smirks in return; keeps staring until her face burns red and she turns away. He can’t help it. Everything is so much worse now that he’s tasted her. It’s a good thing that the semester ends in a couple of weeks. If he gets all the same classes with her again next semester he’s going to fucking drop out. Might as well. Not like he’s going to learn anything when she’s here.

When the school day comes to a close and they’re back in his Camaro, Heather weirdly doesn’t seem to be mad at him anymore. Doesn’t bring up Steve. Billy lets her play the radio again. Maybe it’ll help her like him enough for him to make another move on her. Of course, the only thing with decent reception is stupid pop music so they’re stuck listening to Madonna. They sit there in the parking lot for a few minutes while Billy smokes with the window rolled down an inch. Heather stares at her nails, fiddles with her earrings, glances at him and smiles before looking away.

“How do you _ listen _ to this shit?” Billy finally asks, grimacing.

Heather frowns at Madonna’s nasal voice. “Honestly, it’s not my first choice either. Sometimes they play okay stuff though.” 

“Really. So what do you listen to? Like, Christian Folk or something?” Billy mocks her with his eyes.

Heather laughs. “_No_. I like Talking Heads, Kraftwerk. Brian Eno.That kind of stuff.”

“Huh. I knew you were weird.”

“I’m weird? Have you actually heard the music you listen to?”

“Just didn’t think you’d be into that geeky shit. Better than Madonna I guess.”

Heather stares out the window for several seconds before whipping around to face him. “Hey I have an idea. Why don’t we go to the record store downtown? I want to pick up a few albums. It could be our first real _ hang out_.” She pokes him for extra emphasis.

“The record store?” Billy actually wouldn’t mind that. He’s only been downtown a few times. Didn’t even notice they _ had _ a record store.

“Yeah, it’ll be fun.” She gives him one of those cute smiles that makes Billy feel lightheaded.

He shrugs, starting the engine. “Fuck it. Let’s see what shit music this town sells.”

* * *

JS Records actually has a pretty decent selection. It’s a tiny place. Smells like old cardboard and stale cigarettes. The floors creak. Every square inch of space is used up. Billy can barely move in it without bumping into something. It’s kind of cool. Granted, it’s full of soft rock crap, and it wouldn’t even come close to the selection in San Diego, but at least they _ have _ a metal section. They even have _ Ride The Lightning _ and Billy’s been itching to get his hands on it. Too bad he’s broke until Neil gives him his next allowance. Billy slides a finger over the plastic of the record cover. Maybe if he didn’t waste so much gas money driving Heather around-

“More Metallica, huh?” Heather’s suddenly at his side. “You gonna get it?” She starts blowing a pink bubble between her lips. Her arms are overflowing with cassettes and records. They’ve been here for almost an hour, Heather immediately going off in a separate direction to explore. Billy kind of digs how she does her own thing,though she browses way too long for his taste. 

“Jesus, why don’t you just buy the place?” 

“Not a bad idea” She grins, smacking her gum. ‘So you gonna get it? You’ve been looking at it for like ten minutes.” She blows a giant bubble that’s half the size of her head. Billy smirks and pops it with his finger. “Hey!” She mumbles as she awkwardly sucks it back into her mouth and kicks him lightly in the shin.

“I dunno.” Billy says mid-chuckle as she shifts all her items into one hand and rubs the excess gum off her face. “Not really feeling anything here right now.” He reaches out and grabs her chin, wipes her lip off with his thumb.

“Really? Are you sure?” The color in her face is rising but she tries to play it off casual.

“Yeah, it’s just cool a place like this even exists in this shithole.”

“It’s like the only place worth going to. I rode my bike here all the time before it snowed. Apparently they’re building a mall nearby but that won’t be done til next summer.”

“Well, I’ll definitely come back.” He pauses, glancing at her albums. “Not with you though, you take forever.”

She beams at him. “Thanks for waiting.”

“I’ll be in the car while you buy all that shit. I need a smoke.” He puts his palm on the small of Heather’s back as pushes past her. Any excuse to touch her works for him. It’s definitely working for her by the way she keeps turning pink.

He heads to the front door, and almost gets bodychecked on the way out. “Hey, watch where you’re fucking going.” Billy takes a good look at the culprit.

It’s Jonathan Byers. The freak. Billy classifies him as creepy loser, but he _ did _ punch Steve Harrington in the face _ and _ steal his girl, so he gets automatic points from him. Jonathan doesn’t even look at him, making a beeline into the store like a man on a mission. Dude clearly hates people, lives in a world all his own. Billy would respect that if the guy wasn’t so goddamn weird.

Billy returns to the Camaro and sits there for a long while, smoking steadily, staring into the now-dark horizon. For some reason he keeps the radio on even though they’re playing Prince now. Actually, he has to admit he likes it. Billy wonders how much Purple Rain is at this record store, if the movie is still playing at the drive-in. He heard the girl shows her tits in it.

Heather jerks open the passenger door, cold air rushing in. “Sorry that took so long. I had to find a trashcan for my gum.” She lands in her seat in a big heap, plastic shopping bags piling around her. She shuts the door behind her, looking at him guiltily. “Most of these are gifts by the way.” 

“Whatever, I’m not gonna judge you for liking music.”

“Okay, about ten percent of these are gifts.” 

“Knew it.” He cruises out onto the road. Heather shoves the bags down until they’ve compressed into neat mountains around her feet.

“There.” She sighs, admiring her handiwork.

She needs to stop being so fucking cute. “Try not to crush them all before we get to your place, alright.”

They exit the downtown core, stopping at a red light. Heather clears her throat. “Um. Okay, I might have gotten you something.”

“What.” Billy snaps his head in her direction.

She pulls Ride The Lightning out of one of the bags, glowing joyfully. “I couldn’t resist.”

“_Jesus_, you didn’t have to fucking do that.” Billy glances at the road, back to the glossy album in her hands. A part of him wants to get mad at her for bothering, but she’s so genuinely excited right now he can’t bring himself to. 

“Consider it an early Christmas present.” She looks at the album cover. “I like the electric chair on the front. So spooky.”

That first sentence makes Billy on edge. “Don’t expect anything in return or whatever. I can’t exactly throw money at shit like you do.” He fiddles absently with the temperature knob. “Also, I just fucking met you.”

“Oh.” Heather’s eyes widen, lips parted in sudden realization. “Yes, of course. I don’t expect anything. I don’t want anything, really. Sorry. You were literally just talking about stuff like this. Stupid of me..” She gives a nervous laugh, shoving the record back into the bag. “I just like giving people stuff.”

Billy wishes she didn’t get all embarrassed about it. She was so happy before. “No, it's cool. Seriously.” He puts his arm on the back of her headrest. “Thanks.” He means it. 

She gives him a relieved smile. “I really hope you like it.”

Minutes pass. They barely talk but it’s not awkward. She doesn’t seem to care whether they speak or not. Billy gets a strong feeling that she’s used to being alone. She doesn’t seem to try to fill silence with words like most people. It’s weird how easy it is to just sit in that emptiness with her, that peace. What isn’t easy is how badly he wants to pull her into the back seat with him.

He shifts his hand, starts sliding it down the edge of her chair. He reaches her jean-covered thigh and glides his fingers down the fabric until he captures her knee in his palm. He feels her twitch under him. She still says nothing, but a moment later her hand is on his. Small and cold. 

“You’re fucking freezing.” He covers her fingertips, letting his warmth seep into her, rubbing into her skin to get her blood flowing.

“You’re really warm.” She sounds quiet, tender. ”You feel nice.” 

“Uh...you too.” Billy twines his fingers with hers, palm against palm. They stay that way for the entirety of a Spandau Ballet song. Billy can’t really hear it.

He parks on the side of the road in front of her house again. He gets that familiar awkward feeling when he looks at it, like he doesn’t belong here. He glances at Heather, fingers still entwined. 

“I had a nice time.” She squeezes his hand.

“Yeah, it wasn’t bad.” He grunts, releasing her fingers, suddenly aware that they’re holding hands, listening to love songs. His palm moves back on the wheel. “You never punched my arm once though, kinda disappointed.”

“You actually behaved for most of it.”

“It won’t last long.” He promises.

“So..." She pulls at one of her earrings. "-would you ever want to do something like this again with me?”

He shrugs as nonchalant as possible. “I don’t see why not.”

She smiles wide. “So you like me after all.” She shifts towards him, eyes warm. Billy melts into them too easily, gets a flare of heat in his belly. He can’t resist matching her movement. 

He leans in close, face hovering near hers. “Barely. But I think you’re starting to win me over already. Something about your mouth.”

Heather rolls his her eyes, but her cheeks are burning up again. “Do you want to get to know me?” 

Billy loves how she gets so flushed for him. All he has to do is be himself. He looks at her inviting lips, back to her doe-eyes. “I think I know too much already.” 

“Do you want to kiss me?” Heather murmurs with a shy grin, eyes glancing away like she can’t handle the heat of his gaze, can’t handle how close he is right now.

He brushes his nose against hers slowly, teasing, hearing her soft inhale. “Maybe.”

“I think you do.” She bites her lip, squirms in her seat.

A sudden bolt of lust hits him. “Yeah.”

Billy’s mouth is on hers in one strong motion. She parts her lips for him instantly, kissing him back just as hard. Their tongues and lips slide over each other in a way he’s going to crave the rest of his life. Lush. Raw. Carnal. His hand skims over her cheek before it cradles the back of her head, pulling her deeper into his mouth.She tastes like strawberry bubblegum, smells like warm vanilla. Billy feels more desperate for her than he should for anybody. He soaks her in, lets her bleed into his memory permanently. Heather looks dizzy when he finally pulls away.

“Wow.” She exhales hard like she’s trying to recover. He can’t blame her. “You kiss really thoroughly for someone who barely likes me.”

“Come back to my place.” Billy rasps, hand running down her arm. “I get way more thorough than that.”

She gives him a weak smile. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” He’s breathing heavy, too hard in his jeans to think straight.

“I have to be home for dinner.”

“So?” Billy leans in, slowly kisses her throat, her jaw, the delicate skin underneath her ear. Her breath gets heavier with each press of his lips.

“I have to go home.” Her voice is shaky. 

“Backseat is also an option if you wanna be quick. I’ll still get you off, I promise.”

Heather gasps softly at his blunt offer. “Okay..I-I’m really not ready for that yet.”

“Your mouth seems more than ready.” Billy murmurs against her earlobe.

“Don’t.” 

“You’re so pretty...” He gently bites her neck, tongue slipping out to taste her.

“_Don’t. _” Heather pushes against his chest and he stops. She gives him a serious look. "Can’t you appreciate the moment we just had? Why do you need to rush it? That was a lot for a first date- I mean, hang-out. Don’t rush me.”

“Oh, I _ do _appreciate it. I just want to appreciate you some more.” Billy’s eyes heat up. “All of you.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Yet.” Billy says cockily. “And trust me, that _ wasn’t _a lot. Not even close.”

Heather shakes her head, a mixture of disappointment and desire on her face. She reaches in one of the plastic bags for Billy’s gift and hands it to him. “Your overconfidence never ceases to amaze me.”

“Come over and you’ll be more than amazed.” He purrs, placing the album in his lap.

“Nope.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, starts shifting away from him, grabbing her bags.

“Fine.” Billy sees her reach for the door handle. He puts his hand on her arm. “Hey, wait. Don’t leave just yet.” Heather looks back at him skeptically. “Let me say goodnight.” 

Billy moves in close again, palms moving to gently cup her face. He leans in to kiss her once more. She lets him. This time it’s slow and searching, but just as intense. Just as primal. When he releases her, she’s even more disoriented. 

“Goodnight, Heather.” He says huskily, sultry gaze promising everything and more.

“Uh…” She gulps, inching out the door. “Goodnight.” 

Billy watches as she hurries in clipped steps towards the white of her house. Like she’s afraid of something. Afraid of his need for her. Afraid of what he makes her feel. He can sense it in his chest, a reflecting awareness. He sighs in frustration. 

Fuck, he just wanted to get laid . And so did she. She’s just being a prude. A priss. She needs some dick to get it out of her system. Billy knows she’s real slutty underneath it all. No one would kiss like that if they weren’t. She’s probably gonna lie in bed tonight in her wet little panties, touching herself while she imagines him inside her. 

He groans at that image.That thought isn’t helping him. He looks at the Metallica album on his lap. 

He’s actually starting to really like her.


	8. like a dream in the night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy gets a taste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT ALERT. Beep Beep.

Billy drives Heather to school the next day. It's slightly less awkward but Max's irritating presence still makes it weird. Billy's contemplating giving her away for adoption. Shipping her in a box to the middle of nowhere. Anything to get her the hell away from him.

After first period, Tommy approaches Billy at his locker, face in that ever-present leer.

"Hargrove, you dog you!" He slaps him hard on the back and makes a harsh woofing sound that reverberates down the hallway. "Getting up in that rich-girl pussy after all."

Usually this kind of talk would make Billy feel pumped but right now it's annoying as hell. 

Tommy continues. "I was pretty close myself but you know how it is with the old ball and chain." Tommy and Carol had gotten back together literally the day after Teresa's party. Surprise surprise. "So tell me, how is she? She give head? Please tell me she gives head."

He's never wanted to strangle Tommy more than this moment. "You're a real class act there, Hagan. Like I'm going to tell you all the dirty details."

Tommy sneers. "So she hasn't yet."

Billy leans against his locker, glowering. "You really think Ms. Priss is gonna give it up after one date?” Not that he didn't try anyways. “Have you _ met _ this chick? Girls like her need to be...persuaded. Y'know, _ buttered up_."

"Well, fuck me sideways." Tommy smirks. "Hargrove playing the long game. Never thought I'd see the day."

"Pussy this good takes time." He needs to say something that'll shut Tommy up, satiate his endless horny curiosity. "And trust me, from the preview I got the other day, when princess gives in.." He leans forward, lowering his voice with a lewd grin."...she's gonna make these highschool sluts look like nuns."

Tommy laughs, slapping him on the back once more. "_Billy_, my _man_. I think you're my hero. You better tell me everything once she puts out."

If Tommy touches him again he's going to punch his face in. Billy snorts, smacking Tommy too hard on the shoulder, making him grimace. "I'm not gonna tell you _shit._" 

* * *

Every day is a tightening band; he could snap at any moment. She’s so close but so far.If Billy doesn't have her soon he's going to lose it. He gives Heather a ride to and from school daily, strain between them overwhelming. Max doesn't miss their obvious tension from the backseat, always managing to make some sly comment when Heather cant hear her. He can't even drive her alone from swimming practice again because the pool's closed until January.Heather keeps a fair distance between them at school, seemingly wary after their last time together. But every time they make eye contact he knows she's losing it just as much as he is.

Halfway through the week he _ does _snap, dragging Heather into the dark janitors closet when no one's looking, pinning her against the wall. He grinds up into her, mouth feral on hers. She moans quiet and helpless, the soft skin of her neck burning under his lips, her nails digging into his shoulders. She kisses him back so dirty he nearly creams himself. It's the hottest thing that's ever happened to him with his clothes on.

She's going to cave soon. Any day now. Definitely before Christmas.

He just needs to get her alone again.

* * *

Its the last day before Christmas vacation before he gets his chance, only managing to get a few quick kisses out of her before then. Heather is the one who asks to hang out. Billy knew it would have to be that way. Especially with how she got all skittish on him after the record store date. He needed her to come to him. Make it all her idea. Then he can pounce. She's so worked up by this point, the chances of her not putting out are slim to none.

"You um...want to come over today?" Heather asks after school when they're waiting in the car for Max. She's so obvious. So not-smooth. "The house will be empty. Uh- I mean, we could watch a movie or something. Or like listen to records."

Billy gives her a crooked grin. "Listen to records, huh? Well that sounds real fun. You gonna show me all that robot shit you listen to?"

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to."

He moves in close to her, mouth inches from hers. "And miss out on all that _ synth _? Wouldn't dream of it." Their lips almost touch before Max knocks on Heathers door. Heather smiles sheepishly and gets out, letting her into the backseat.

Max is giving Billy the biggest smirk through the car mirror. "Sorry to interr-"

Billy cuts her off. "You're going home first today, Max."

She gives him a confused look. "Why?"

He glances at Heather next to him. "Heather and I are going to...hang out."

"_Finally._" Max says with a relieved eye-roll. "You guys were being so weird."

Billy ignores that.

Thankfully it hasn't snowed again, the roads clear. He speeds back to his house in record time, dropping Max off without a goodbye. He turns the car around, speeding all the way to Heather's place. His hand is on her knee, squeezing slightly. She's quiet, just keeps glancing at him with coy smiles. She's killing him.

The Camaro screeches to a halt near the end of her driveway.

Heather unbuckles her seatbelt. "Um, just letting you know. My parents are going to be home in about an hour."

That's more than enough time. He gets out of the car, barely hiding his eagerness. He follows her up her driveway. It's only during the walk up the front steps that he realizes what he's in for. That he's never been in a house this big. His jaw nearly drops as soon as his foot crosses over the threshold.

"Holy_ shit. _" 

He's never seen a place so goddamn opulent in his life. Every inch of her house screams money. From the crisp decor to the crystal chandelier that dangles above them. His entire being instantly rejects the place. It's too big. Too cold. Too clean. The giant Christmas tree in the center of the foyer looms over them, decorated to clinical perfection. Every cell in his body wants to go back out the door.

He looks at Heather with his jaw clenched, trying to make no expression. She's doing an equally bad job at hiding how awkward this is. She offers to take his jacket from him, hangs their coats up in some fancy closet.

"Uh, you want the tour or should we just go to my room?"

Billy remembers why he's here. Looking around would only suck his soul right out his body, waste precious time. "Your room sounds good." 

Heather guides him up the white staircase that winds around their skyscraper of a tree. Billy keeps whipping his head around to take in how fucking huge this place is. He could _ never _ get used to this.

She takes him down a wide hallway past several white doors until they reach one with a wreath on it. When she opens the door he feels instant relief. For every bit of sterility her house possesses, her room contrasts it entirely. It's huge for sure, but it's human. It's lived in. And she was right, it is kind of messy. Heather quickly starts picking up her clothes off the floor. Tosses them in a wicker laundry basket by her four poster bed.

"Uh, sorry about the mess."

The blinds are closed. Its dark except for the bright multicolored Christmas lights lining her walls. A Christmas tree strung with homemade ornaments in the corner. She actually has a fireplace, one red stocking hanging down from it. Her room is more festive than his whole house.

Billy glances around further. Sees a shelf full of trophies. He moves closer to inspect their labels. Swimming. Track. Science Fair. First place. First place. First place. “You ever lose or what?"

"Second and third place ones are in the closet." He hears her say, accompanied by the sound of a camera flash. Billy spins around. Heather’s pointing a Canon camera at him, strap around her neck.

"Well, look at you." He takes a step towards her, grinning. “Y’know I’m pretty sure I had a dream about this once.” Another flash goes off. “Except I was holding the camera and you were naked.”

Heather snorts, head popping out behind her camera. “Yeah, keep dreaming.”

“Most of my dreams about you have already come true.” He smirks at how she flushes at that. “You into taking pictures now?”

"Yeah." She nods. "Used to take them constantly back home. Just got a bunch of new film.”

Billy looks back at her trophy shelf, then makes his way further down the wall. For some reason he can't help but keep exploring. He sees framed photographs, including a portrait of Heather. She’s standing in front of a mirror, doe-eyes looking into him, camera in hand by her waist. A self portrait. He looks at the other prints. Stark black and white. Ocean. Twisting oak trees. People’s haunted faces, lens peering into the depths of them. He doesn't know anything about photography but he knows he likes this.

“You took all these?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” He bites the inside of his cheek. Doesn’t know what to say. “So you’re some kind of art freak or something?”

“Of course you’d call me that.” He hears her laugh.

“You ever do something with them?” He slides his thumb over one of the frames. "Like show people?"

“Only my dad. It’s just a hobby." She comes up beside him. "I mean I’d_ like _to. My dream would be to travel across the U.S and take pictures. Like maybe sell them to a magazine. I dunno.” 

That idea makes him weirdly...happy for her. “You should.”

Heather shakes her head, camera gliding up to her face. She takes another snap of him. No flash. “My mother would freak.”

He puts his palm over the lens. “Why?”

She looks up at him cautiously, lets the camera hang from her neck. “We’ve had this whole plan for ages about me going to Harvard next year. For law. I mean, Daddy’s okay with me taking photos for fun. He used to own a newspaper back in Connecticut, so I guess he kind of gets it. The travel thing though? No way." She pauses. "Harvard's the best choice."

This doesn't surprise him. Of course she'd go to a school like Harvard. But she looked way happier talking about travelling. "Do you _want_ to go to Harvard?"

"I think so. I don't know. They're right about it though. I should go." Her voice sounds clear but her eyes aren't selling it.

Billy gives her a firm look, gaze unwavering. “You should do whatever the fuck you want.”

She clears her throat, folding her arms. "They would disagree.” 

“That why you’re such a teacher’s pet? Gotta impress mommy and daddy?”

She bristles at that, taking a step away from him. “I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.”

“Alright...” 

She looks down, fiddling with the aperture on her camera. “And what are you going to do? I mean, after we graduate.”

Billy hates it when people ask him that. He shrugs, glancing back at her pictures. “I dunno, get into a trade or something. Like be a car mechanic maybe.”

“Oh.” 

“I don’t really give a fuck as long as it pays the bills.”

She hesitates. “Of course. Well, that’s good.”

There’s an awkward tension. Billy gets a feeling that whatever he said was the wrong answer. 

Heather slips her camera strap off her neck. “Music?” She crosses the room and kneels down next to a large stack of records on the floor. Billy notices that she's got black crates of them lining the whole wall. This girl is a hoarder. He admires the arch of her back as she leans forward, the curve of her hips. 

He makes a beeline towards her, sits down at her side, immediately getting in her personal space. Close enough to make her blush. "Whatcha gonna play for me?" 

"Something tolerable hopefully." She peeks at him with a smile. Her fingers flip through the records.

"If it's Gary Numan, I'm leaving."

Her fingers stop. She pulls an album up. "Roxy Music?"

"Ehh." His hand slides down her back. "Only know like one song. They're okay."

She pretends she doesn't notice his hand slip up under her sweater, gliding up her spine. She's so warm, smooth. "Avalon is a good album."

"Play it." He leans over to kiss her neck. She lets out a soft _ mmm _.

"You're really distracting."

"You're really fun to distract." He pulls back to look at her. Her eyes are dreamy, sensual. They make his mouth go dry, his pulse speed up. She puts the record on, black disk spinning with a crackle. The pop notes of "More Than This" trickle out. It's cheesy as hell but he'll take it.

"This is the poppiest song on here by the way. It gets better.”

"Well, thank god for that." His fingers skim under the clasp of her bra.

Her lips pull into a grin."You're so touchy-feely."

"You want me to stop?" He raises an eyebrow at her.

"No." She glances at his mouth, leans in to kiss him. It's quick and sweet. A good start.

She suddenly pulls away, moving on hands and knees towards the Christmas tree.

"Where you going, baby?" He croons, grabbing her leg from under her, dragging her across the oriental carpet to him.

She squeals, kicking his hand away. "I want to turn on the tree lights!" She scoots back towards it. Her arm reaches up and flicks a few switches behind the branches. The tree lights up like a rainbow next to her, flickering, colored light playing across the room.

"Yeah, you setting the mood?" Billy teases, crawling towards her. He backs her up til she's belly-up on the floor under him. His palms are on either side of her head. His knees trapping her legs together. He loves the feel of her under him. The lights dance over her face, ethereal and hypnotic. Her tongue steals out to slide anxiously over her lips.

He dips his head low to her ear. "You good?"

"Yeah." She nods.

"What do you want me to do?" His mouth brushes her earlobe.

"Kiss me." She breathes, hands sliding up his back.

"_After _that."

"Uh...I don't know."

"You a virgin?" He whispers, lips pressing into her neck.

"No."

He’s surprised. He lifts himself up to look at her."Why’re you so skittish then?"

"You um-kind of..overwhelm me." She giggles, looking away.

She's too adorable. "Oh, _ sweetheart -" _ He oozes dangerous charm. "-I've barely even started."

She bites her lip, glancing over him. "That's what I mean."

"You know I'm only gonna make you feel good."

"I know."

"You ever come before? You seem like the kinda girl who's never come in her life."

She scoffs, clearly offended. "Yes, I've come before."

"Yeah?"

"Of course I have."

He has to ask, though as usual he’s probably better off not knowing. "Did Harrington make you come?"

"We never actually got past kissing." She admits.

Billy's never been so relieved, feels his whole body relax into her. "_Really. _He didn't make a move on you?"

She shakes her head. "He was a real gentleman. Really sweet. Took things slow."

Billy rolls his eyes. "There's no way that guy’s straight. Only a fruitcake would keep his hands off a girl as pretty as you."

Heather grins. "Thanks...I think."

"So, Heather..”He leans in close, lips on her ear again.”..who made you come?"

She bursts out laughing, tries to wiggle away from underneath him. He grabs her wrists, pinning her against the carpet with a wild grin. She squirms a little before giving up. "I can't believe you're asking me this..."

"You have to tell me or I'll just hold you down forever."

She thinks for a second. "I mean, my ex boyfriend back in Connecticut. I think I came once."

Billy snorts, leering. "If you're not sure, then you definitely didn't."

"I've come by myself before." She shrugs.

Billy's eyes light up, his cock twitching in his jeans. "Yeah? You touch yourself? 

Heather smiles shyly. "Sometimes."

"Fuck, that's sexy. You think of me when you do it?"

"_Billy! _"

He smirks, releasing her wrists as he kisses her hard. She twines her arms around his neck. She's already breathing heavily. She wraps her legs around his waist, and he writhes into her hips. Their kisses are frenzied. Needy. He's so hard for her. Billy tears his mouth from hers to murmur in her ear."I wanna make you come."

"Um..."

"I know you're gonna come real good for me.You’re too into me not to." He slides his hand up under her top, over her hot skin, his breath halting when his fingers find her full breast under her bra.

She gasps when two fingers brush over her hardening nipple."It's really hard to make me come."

"No it isn't." He says into the crook of her neck, thumb and forefinger gently pinching her flesh.

Her voice rises in desperation. "It's harder for girls to come than guys."

"I can guarantee that I'm going to prove you wrong on that." His tongue grazes her throat. "So wrong." His hand skims back down her belly, fingers on the button of her jeans. "You gonna let me touch you?"

“Yes.” Heather whispers, fingers running through his hair.

He undoes her button, mouth greedy on hers, hand sliding over the smooth satin of her underwear. "Nice panties" He feels the hot center of her through the fabric. She's so damn wet. He rubs his fingers over the dampness, his breath ragged. "Holy fuck, were you this wet for me last time we made out?"

"Everytime I'm near you."

"Fuck..." His fingers delve underneath her panties and he groans. She's so slick. Dripping. Juices coating him. He explores her delicately, finding her clit. She gasps when he circles two fingers around it. "That feel good?" He mutters against her throat.

"_Yes _." She moans.

"You're so goddamn sexy." His mouth slants across hers as he slips a finger in. He inhales hard at the tight, wet grip of her. "You're going to feel so fucking good around me._ Jesus _.." 

"Are you okay?" Heather teases.

He starts a slow rhythm inside her, finger curling against that spot that he knows drives chicks nuts. The smile on her lips shapes into a small o.

"I'm doing just fine, baby. How ‘bout you?" He grins, another finger sliding in her. He kisses her mouth again. He can't _ stop _kissing her. 

"_Really_ good." She mutters against his lips.

He needs more. So much more. "I wanna eat you out."

Her arms tighten around him. "You do?"

"You wanna feel my tongue on you?"

She tries to hold back a moan as his fingers move in her. “Okay. Yeah. Just for a bit."

Billy pulls off her jeans with rough hands. They fly across the room and land next to her bed in a heap. Her soaked panties come off next. She yelps when he yanks her by her thighs to him, his face hovering over her wet heat. He gets painfully hard at the sight of her splayed open to him. "Make some noise when I'm doing it right." He licks the flat of his tongue up the center of her. She's already loud. 

He grins up at her."You're _ way _too easy. Come on, save it for the good stuff." She laughs in response, breathless, giddy.

She tastes heavenly, salt and clean musk. He's never had anything better. He keeps licking in long broad strokes, teasing. Just getting her started. Just tasting her. She spasms every time his tongue passes over her clit. He slows his tongue over it, going in lazy circles until her fingers dig into his hair. He sucks gently on her.

"That feels so g-..._ oh god _.." 

He sucks harder, flicking his tongue over her bud with total focus. She cries out, already getting tremors. Writhing. She's going to come soon. Billy wants to make fun of her for losing it so fast, but he holds her thighs tight, fingers digging into her flesh, making sure she stays still against his mouth. He increases the tempo, the intensity.. A few seconds later she's panting, moaning in little bursts. Her hips try to jerk upwards as she comes against his tongue. He doesn't let her move, grip tightening. She's gushing so sweetly, dripping down his chin. She whimpers at the overstimulation, pushes at his head to stop him. He changes pace. Licks slowly, carefully, avoiding her clit.

"Oh my _god._" She almost sobs. She starts belly-laughing, shuddering, hands covering her face. Billy feels warm pride in his chest at her response.

"The _ fuck _were you talking about?” He kisses her inner thigh. “You come faster than any girl I’ve ever been with."

She looks like she might cry. "That was amazing.You're amazing." 

"Told you." He gives her thigh a tender bite. His head drifts back to her center. He licks slow up her pussy again. 

"I don't need-"

"I'm not gonna let you get away that easy." He returns to her clit, licking softly. He slides two fingers inside of her and she covers her mouth with her palm. His tongue and fingers work in tandem together against her wet flesh and she's coming again, gasping his name, her walls clenching around his fingers. She's perfect. Billy's losing his goddamn mind.

He gets her off one more time before she begs him to stop. He wipes her slick off his mouth with the back of his hand, hauling himself up to her face, looking at her afterglow. She's so dazed. Cheeks and lips flushed. Eyes glistening. _ Beautiful _. 

“Merry Christmas, Heather.” He says huskily, his lips brushing over hers. She breaks out in teary-eyed giggles again, clutching at him. Billy’s control is slipping. He can't help but lightly thrust his hips against her leg. He's so hard he might pass out. 

"You made me feel so good. I-" She suddenly freezes, palms on his chest, glancing at the clock on the wall. Her eyes widen. "My parents are going to be home soon."

Billy snorts, grabbing her hand. "You kicking me out now, baby? That’s fucking cold." He places her fingers on his raging hard-on. He breathes against her ear. "See what you do to me?" 

Her breath shortens. She glides her fingers over him through his jeans. He gives a soft moan at her touch, nuzzling her neck.

"I wanna fuck you so bad." He whispers harsh.

She shivers, makes a small sound of frustration, looks at the clock again. Her bliss is now nervous tension. "My parents can't know you're here."

No. She can’t do this to him. "Why not?"

She lifts herself up on her elbows."I'm not supposed to have boys over alone. Especially before they've met them."

"_Seriously _?" 

"Yeah. Daddy would murder me."

"So you're actually kicking me out."

"I'm so sorry." She kisses him on the cheek, eyes empathetic.

He groans, moving his hand to cup her wetness again. "Fuck, you're so ready for me though. It'll only take a minute. Trust me."

She moves his hand away from her. "Don't be pushy."

"Easy for you to say." He smirks at her, forcing himself to sit up. "You ever come that hard before?"

“No.” She laughs dreamily. "My legs are jello."

"That's what I like to hear." He chuckles, sliding a hand down her leg. He tries again. "Why don't you come to my place tonight? Finish what we started."

She winces. "I have to go to a Christmas dinner thing."

This chick is a fucking pro at slipping through his fingers. "Fine. Whatever."

"I had a really good time though." Heather kisses him on the cheek again before crossing the room to retrieve her jeans. 

"Yeah, I bet you fucking did." He checks out her ass peeking from under her sweater as she shimmies into her pants. He slides a hand down his face, exasperated. "You're trying to kill me, I swear to god."

“We’ll see each other again.” She makes her way to her vanity. Fixes her disheveled hair in the mirror.

He stands up, adjusting himself in his jeans. “We fucking better.”

She turns to him, grabbing his hand. “Um, let me show you out.” 

He lets her. He’s not sure he’d be able to find his way out of this place on his own. She guides him back down the staircase, this time in rushed steps. She opens the closet in the foyer and practically shoves his coat back in his hands. “I’ll call you.” Her eyes plead forgiveness. She opens the front door. “Merry Christmas.”

He’s about to say something mean to her but she grabs his face between her hands and kisses him deeply. He can’t help but kiss her back, getting hard in his pants again. She pulls away, hand on his back as she pushes him out into the cold. “Bye, Billy.” The door shuts behind him.

He’s disoriented as he walks down her front steps, down the long driveway. When he gets to his car, he puts his jacket on, immediately reaching in the pocket for his Marlboros.He leans against the Camaro, lights up a cigarette. He stares at her house, inhaling sweet nicotine, trying to figure out how he let this fucking happen again. How the night ended with him having to jerk off when he gets home.

He missed out because he wanted to make her feel good. Make her come. Which really isn't unusual for him. It’s a thing he likes to do for girls. A thing he’s good at doing. A thing that makes him feel good about himself. But, this was different. He really _enjoyed_ being with her. Wanted to hold her. Kiss her. Felt all warm inside when he made her get so emotionally affected it by it. That hasn’t happened since...well, ever. Truthfully, he would do it all again, blue balls and all, just to see her face when she comes. He's craving it again already.

He sees a pair of headlights making their way towards him in the dusk. A shiny Mercedes, turning to cruise up the Holloway driveway. He makes brief eye contact with the driver. A middle aged man, hard mouth set in a hard line. It has to be her dad. He gives Billy a double-take, looks at him suspiciously.

Billy’s unfazed. He’s just a guy on the side of the road. He’s allowed to be here. He watches the car wind up the driveway. Sees Heather’s parents exit the vehicle. Her father takes another glance at him before they both walk up the front steps and into the house.

Billy flicks his cigarette butt away, and gets back into his Camaro. He starts the engine, a weird sinking sensation in his gut. He has a horrible feeling he’s going to see that guy again. 

He pushes his Motley Crue tape into the deck. Looks back at her house as he has another realization, his mouth moving into an irritated smirk.

He could have come like twice before her parents had come home. She _totally_ left him hanging.

It won't happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ :) ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7i72cbo_qdg&list=LLivhBZErg75Nmx3osMSuIfw&index=7&t=0s%22)


	9. i'll be so blue just thinkin' about you.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy spends Christmas and New Years in Hawkins.

Christmas arrives in a heartbeat.

Neil just got a fat Holiday bonus. Nobody starts a fight.

Neil gets drunk and plays Elvis’s Christmas album on repeat. Billy hears “Blue Christmas” at least a dozen times before Neil changes the record to Bing Crosby. Then back to Elvis again.

Billy gives Susan cheap silver earrings. He gets a new winter jacket from Susan. Ocean blue. Red trim. Fits him just right. Susan says it brings out his eyes, tries to hug him after he puts it on. Billy doesn’t hate how it looks on him, but he flinches at her touch.

Billy gives Max a Duran Duran tape. Max gives him thermal socks that are actually from Susan. Billy gives Neil a navy-blue tie. Neil gives Billy some extra cash. He’s grateful for it. He spent almost everything he had on gifts this year.

Susan serves honey-glazed ham for dinner. Mashed potatoes. Green beans. Apple pie. It’s not bad. Nothing is bad.

Except that Billy feels hollow. Empty. Watches the whole day go by like he’s outside his body. Like he’s a ghost.

Heather hasn’t called yet.

Boxing day. Billy fills up on gas and drives through thick downtown traffic to JS records. He secretly hopes that Heather will be there. He doesn’t know how she’d get there unless she managed to fix her bike chain. Or actually asked her parents for a ride. His eyes scan the store for her curly hair anyways. He buys Avalon by Roxy Music on sale. Goes home and plays it. Lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark. He remembers Heather underneath him, coloured light shimmering over her body, the way she laughed when he teased her. He relives her in detail. Bambi-brown eyes. Soft skin. Pretty moans.

He should call her.

No. Too soon.

But maybe she wants to hang out anyways. She’s obviously into him. What’s the big deal?

She said she’d call him. He’ll look desperate if he calls her now. Especially after he pretty much begged her for sex last time.

Does that shit even matter? As if she doesn’t want him to fuck her. If her parents hadn’t come home it would have been a done deal. He doesn’t get why he’s worried about this. He’s never worried about this before. He’ll call a girl to fuck whenever he wants to. They don’t mind. They love it.

Don’t they?

He’ll even take just hanging out with her. Technically this is the longest he’s gone without seeing her since his first day at Hawkins High. It’s weird how easy it is to miss her in class, in his car, under his fingers.

Whatever. She’ll call. She said she’d call.

* * *

  
  


It’s New Years Eve. She hasn’t called.

Billy’s at some stupid, sweaty house party and it’s an hour til midnight. Tommy and Carol ditched him to go have sex somewhere. Billy’s drunk and stoned and feels nothing. Doesn’t give a fuck about shotgunning a beer. Or doing a keg stand. Or whatever other high school bullshit is going on around him. The place is packed and hot. He can barely breathe. The music sucks. The girls are mediocre at best. They paw at him, wasted and pathetic. He’s not interested. Why bother with fast food after tasting a delicacy? It all seems pointless.

He kind of wishes he had stayed home and gotten drunk with Neil. Sometimes that ends with a punch to the head, but he could have taken the risk. Neil’s been in a pretty good mood lately. He hasn’t laid a hand on Billy since November.

Billy goes out to the backyard patio-deck to smoke. Catches a glimpse of Teresa’s red hair. That’s the last straw. He immediately turns and heads out the front door, into the freezing night. Doesn’t even know where he’s going. He just has to get the fuck out of there. He’s walking around the block, hands shoved into warm jacket pockets, icy air making his face sting. The streets are empty, peaceful. It’s clear out, shining stars on full display. He can hear faded music from multiple houses in the distance. Billy wants to find a field somewhere, lay out on the cold ground and smoke til he feels something besides self-pity.

Billy spots a phone-booth across from a 7/11. The streetlights make it gleam like a mirage. Metal and glass beaming, beckoning. He trudges towards it without thinking. There’s a phonebook inside, new, still in the plastic. Billy tears it open, skims through the pages until he reaches the H’s. There are so many goddamn H’s. His finger skims over Hocking. Hogan. Holden. _ Holloway _.

There’s only two Holloways. He zeroes in on the number for Chestnut Drive.

He finds quarters in his pocket, change from his last stop for gas. He’s putting them into the slot and dialing before he can stop himself. The alcohol helps.

The phone rings three times. There’s a soft croak on the other side.

“Hello?”

The alcohol doesn’t numb his butterflies. “Uh, is Heather there?”

“This is she.” Heather says, hoarse and nasal.

“Jesus, what the fuck happened to you?”

“Billy?”

“Hey.” He feels himself smile. He’s suddenly more alive then he’s been all week.

“Hey!” She gives a phlegmy cough. “Sorry, I’m really sick.”

“Yeah, no shit. You sound like hell.”

“I _ feel _like hell. But at least there’s Dick Clark and egg nog.” She clears her throat but she’s still raspy. “So, what are you up to tonight?”

“Nothing. Jus’ walking around.”

“Walking around? Why aren’t you getting drunk at some party?”

“I was. It sucked.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s why I don’t go to those things usually. Except the cat shelter. They throw the best parties.”

“Right.” He kicks at some pebbles, watches them scatter across the pavement. “You didn’t call.”

“Sorry, I was busy. I went to New York for Christmas.” Heather coughs again. It sounds painful. “Why didn’t you call _ me _? There weren’t any messages from you when I got back.”

“I dunno, you said you’d call. Why didn’t you tell me you were going to New York?”

“I didn’t think it would matter to you. I thought we weren’t supposed to be serious...”

“We aren’t.” Billy leans a shoulder against the pane behind him, shoves his hand in his pocket. “Just wanted to see you.”

“You missed me?”

Billy flashes back to buying the Roxy Music album just to reminisce.

“No.”

“You totally missed me.” He can almost see her grinning. She’d be touching him now if she were here.

“Not really.”

“It’s okay. I missed you too.”

“Whatever. It was fucking annoying waiting for you.” Billy hopes that sounds less needy than he thinks it does. He’s boozed up enough that words are just slipping out. This whole phone call is probably a mistake.

“I’m sorry. I’m also sick you know. Kinda gross to be around.”

Billy shrugs.“I’d still fuck you.”

Heather bursts into laughter, broken by another round of wet coughs. “_Billy. _ You are the definition of a one track mind.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want me to. Bet that’s all you think about.”

“Maybe I’m not as obsessed with sex as you are.” She says in her usual coy way. It makes him wish he could reach through the phone and pull her into the booth with him.

“Okay, Miss Multiple Orgasms.”

“_See_, this is partly why I didn’t call you.”

“What do you mean?” Billy knows exactly what she means.

“You’re just going to pressure me to have sex with you.”

“Not _ pressure _ you. Just help you understand what you need...on a primal level.”

“_Wow. _ That’s so deep.”

Billy chuckles, lowers his voice. “Oh, I’ll show you deep, baby.”

“Oh my god...”

He sighs, staring up at the stars.“Look, we don’t have to fuck. We could do something. Go someplace.”

“Like where?”

“I dunno.” He frowns. Blurts out the first thing that comes to mind. “You wanna go to the winter dance next week?” He’s going to regret asking this tomorrow. Definitely.

“You dance?”

“No. But there’s free food and somebody’ll probably spike the punch.”

Heather seems skeptical. “You actually want to go?”

“No. But _ you _ want to. Don’t you?” She has to. She’s a chick. They love that shit.

“I kind of do, actually.” She sniffles.

“Let’s go then.”

“Okay, there’s just one thin-wait, hold on.” He hears her muffled sneeze twice before she continues. “You’re going to have to meet my parents first.”

Billy swallows hard. “_Why? _”

“Well, um, they saw you and your car outside last time you were here. And apparently Daddy’s already seen your car dropping me off like three times. So now they’re mad at me for not telling them about you. _ Also _ if I go with someone to the dance, they’re going to want to meet who I’m going with.”

Damn, he knew that guy gave him a dirty look. “Overprotective much? Did they meet _ Steve _?”

“They did.”

Great. Now they have someone to compare him to.

“Can you just like...come over for dinner?” She sounds like she’s pouting. Sounds like she’s batting her lashes at him. “Please?”

This just keeps getting worse. “_Dinner_? That seems excessive.” He digs his fingers into his scalp, grips his hair at the roots.

“We have nice dinners here. We have a great cook. You’ll like it.”

He rolls his eyes.“The food isn’t the issue here, Heather.”

“What’s the problem?”

Billy looks at the homeless drunk sitting on the curb outside the 7/11. Wonders if that’s close to the impression he’ll make on Heather’s parents.“I don’t own a three piece suit and a Rolls Royce.”

She laughs and it sounds like gravel. “It’ll be fine. Just dress up a bit and be yourself.”

He snorts, condescending. “Yeah, I’m sure they’ll love that.”

“I mean, be _ nice _obviously. How hard is it to be nice? Anyways, I can’t really go out with you anymore unless you meet my parents. If they see your car again and I don’t introduce you they’re going to freak.”

So she’s decided to corner him.

“Okay, fine.” He mutters. “I’ll meet your parents for dinner. But you better not be serving caviar, or fucking_ snails_. You know I’m not gonna touch that shit.”

“Thank you. And there won’t be any of that. At least, I hope not. I hate that stuff.”

“Good.”

They both go quiet. Billy watches his breath drift out, frost-white.

“Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s going to be okay.”

He’s really not so sure of that. “I know.”

“I’m excited to see you.” Heather pauses. He hears her raspy inhale. “Wow, it’s almost midnight. The ball’s about to drop.”

“How long?”

“Twenty seconds. You want me to count down?”

He grins soft. “Sure.”

She sneezes again before starting. “Five...four...three...two..._ one_. Happy New Year!” Her voice cracks.

Billy hears a group of people screaming joyously across the street. The loud crackle of fireworks as they shoot off in the distance. Bright purples and yellows. Greens and blues. Sparks exploding and dissolving. He’s seen fireworks tons of times but this is different. Special. This time last year he was at a beach party in San Diego, peaking on acid, tongue in a stranger’s mouth. This moment is better than that. Less lonely. He was still lonely back then.

He’ll take this. 1985. Bitter cold. Alone in a phone-booth. Talking to a sick girl he’s dying to see again. Knowing that he _ will _ see her keeps him warm as a bonfire.

“I’d kiss you right now if you were here.” Billy hears himself say.

“I wish I was.”

“Me too.”

More fireworks soar and pop. Red this time. Then blue again. He’s going into a trance, staring at the bursting hues, hearing Heather’s stuffy breathing. He doesn’t mind it. It’s comforting knowing that she’s there on the other side.

“Billy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m going to go now. I’m getting sleepy. It’s the cough medicine.”

“Okay.” He feels heavy all of a sudden. Spell broken. “I’ll call you tomorrow. If you want.”

“I’d like that. And if you don’t, I’ll call _ you_. Promise.”

“Cool.” He smiles. “Happy New Year, Heather. Get better, alright?”

“I’ll try. Happy New Year. See you soon, bye.”

“Bye.”

She hangs up. Billy holds the phone to his ear for a few more seconds before clicking it down in the cradle, fingers numb. He opens a fresh pack of Marlboros and leans against the outside of the phone-booth. Smokes slowly. Watches the rest of the fireworks til the horizon goes black and still, only pinpricks of stars left.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [<3](https://youtu.be/6NNWKiWJMdE?t=161)


	10. if her daddy's rich.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy arrives at The Holloway house for dinner.

Billy doesn’t know what the fuck to wear.

It’s the evening three days after New Years; the night of the dinner. Billy is scanning over his wardrobe; cotton,denim, and well-worn leather. He really only has two good shirts. Button-ups. Short-sleeved. One red and one blue. The latter is one of those pieces that Susan says is _ just your color, brings out your eyes_. He’ll take the hint. He pulls it on, buttons it to the throat. Decides on tight jeans for pants because there’s no other choice. He reaches for the hair spray, for his best cologne; starts primping.

This is fucked up. Like any amount of preparation is going to hide the fact that he doesn’t belong anywhere _ near _ that house. That Heather should be on the arm of some rich asshole, some sweater-wearing prep. Heather made a bad choice. She can’t be that bright. She’s going to regret this. _ Everybody _is going to regret this.

Billy’s so anxious he forgets to play music on the way to her house. He drives in choked silence, hands in a white-knuckled grip on the wheel. His stomach is clenched, breath shallow. He’s just one giant, defective pulse. He parks in front of her house, sits there for a good five minutes. Contemplates driving off and never speaking to Heather again.

If he can get past the front door, maybe he can act his way through this. Turn into somebody else. That generally tends to work for him; when he flirts with chicks, with mothers, anyone who goes for dick. He can make them like him, _lust_ after him if he really wants to. But talking to her dad? No one’s dad has ever _liked_ Billy, let alone a wealthy one who probably already hates him.

He somehow makes it up her driveway, up her wide front steps. When he rings the bell, he glances down. Makes sure his shirt is still buttoned up. He’s not about to take chances right now. He never thought he’d see the day that he actually cared.

Heather opens the door and Billy’s breath catches. She’s radiant. Her gold earrings catch the light.

“Hey Billy.” She beams.

“Uhh...hi.”

He breaks out in a sweat at the sight of her dress. Red velvet. Short. Tight. The long sleeves and high neck make it no less sexy. It shows off her strong legs through sheer nylons. Matches her lips. In any other circumstance he would tell her how gorgeous she is. How red is definitely her colour. Right now he’s already so overwhelmed he just stares. Steps through the doorway like a cautious deer.

The gigantic Christmas tree in the foyer is gone. Her house is even more unwelcoming now, no holiday decor to warm it up. He keeps his eyes on Heather for solace.

“Let me grab your coat.” She starts sliding it off his arms. “You look nice.”

He watches her put his jacket away. Admires how she put her hair up all elegant. She seriously knows how to dress to the nines when she wants to. The cows at Hawkins High should take notes. She looks up at him with those big brown eyes, concerned.

“You okay?” She murmurs.

No. 

“Yeah.”

She takes his hand in hers, gives him a soothing smile. “I want you to meet Daddy.”

“Okay.” Billy shrugs, pulse racing, his hand wary in hers. He rarely lets people hold him like this but her skin on his feels so damn good. 

She guides him through a large, plush living room. The room is warm but Billy’s chilled to the bone. All he sees is hostility. Heather keeps glancing back at him. He realizes she’s nervous too. It's not comforting.

A red door opens. They’re in a small study that reeks of quality tobacco. There’s a lit fireplace. A stag head sticking out of the wall. Plump velvet couches. A big oak desk with a swivel chair behind it, facing away from them. It’s like something out of a movie. He’s expecting her dad to be swilling whiskey and smoking a cigar when he turns around. Billy wants to laugh. This can’t actually be happening. It’s way too over the top. Too surreal. Do people actually _ live _ like this?

Billy tries to pull his hand away from Heather but she won’t let go, just clutches harder. Like she knows he’s going to need her.

“Um, Daddy? This is Billy.”

The chair spins to face them. Billy was half right. Her dad’s holding a whiskey tumbler, dressed way too nice for a Tuesday in Hawkins. White haired and square jawed. He’s got one of those beady stares that sees right into Billy’s soul. Or at least tries to. Billy’s automatic reaction is to puff up his chest, anchor himself. Stare right back. Maybe it’s a bad idea. Maybe he shouldn’t play tough. He just can’t help it. He’s been in too many fights to puss out at the first sign of a threat.

Mr. Holloway puts his tweed-slippered feet up on the desk, giving Billy a once-over. Sizing him up. Billy holds back a grin when he sees a cigar box open. 

Billy nods, back straight as an arrow. “Good to meet you, sir.” Neil’s whole _ respect and responsibility _ training might actually be coming in handy now. 

Mr. Holloway lights up his cigar, cheeks puffing, sweet smoke filling the air.

“Do you usually wear your girlfriend’s jeans to dinner, son?”

Heather’s squeezing his hand in a death-grip now. Billy was expecting something bad but this takes the cake. Dude’s coming out swinging already.

Billy smirks, shows no signs of weakness even though he’s sweating. “My tux was at the cleaners.”

Heather’s dad looks him dead in the eye for too long before speaking, each word a challenge. A taunt. “And where did you get that hair? The _ gutter_?”

This guy clearly isn’t going to pull his punches.It’s a good thing Billy’s used to getting torn apart. 

He keeps his gaze steady, doesn’t skip a beat. “Nope, grew it all by myself.” 

Mr. Holloway motions around his ear. “And what’s with the ladies earring? You some kind of pretty-boy?”

“Had to give your daughter a run for her money.” He hears Heather’s soft snort next to him, feels her thumb glide over his knuckles. 

Mr. Holloway pauses, exhaling another large cloud. He’s not impressed.

“So you’re a funny guy, huh?”

“I’m sure you’re much funnier, sir.”

Heather’s father grins, but it’s brutal. “Oh, I am.” He glances at her. “Aren’t I, sweetie?”

She gives a short laugh-_ of course daddy- _ but she’s still squeezing the hell out of Billy’s hand.

“So.” Mr. Holloway sucks at his cigar in contemplation. “I hear you’ve been driving my daughter around for weeks without even introducing yourself. Like a _ coward_.”

That word makes Billy’s blood boil, makes his teeth clench. He exhales slow. “That’s why I’m here, sir.”

“And why didn’t you show your face earlier? You got something to _ hide_?”

“I was too busy studying.” Billy says stone-faced. “Gotta keep up my G.P.A.”

“_Really. _ You do well at school?”

“My education is _ very _ important to me.” Billy smiles slowly.

Mr. Holloway leers right back, clearly not buying anything coming out of Billy’s mouth. “Of course it is. Your parents must be so proud.” 

Billy nods, keeps his expression pleasant. He has to keep a poker face, keep playing the game. It’s all he can do right now. 

He lays it on thick. “Your daughter’s my biggest inspiration, sir.” 

Mr. Holloway narrows his eyes. “And what exactly _ are _ your intentions towards my daughter?”

Billy expected this question. He goes with the partial truth. “To take her to the winter dance next week, sir.”

“And after_ that_?”

Billy thinks fast. Chooses to side-step.“All I know is Heather’s a smart girl. She wouldn’t hang around me unless she knew I was worthy.” He hopes that Mr. Holloway isn’t the type to throw his own daughter under the bus. 

He’s not. His face lights up as he takes a deep drag. “You know what. You’re absolutely right. Heather’s sharp as a tack. Going straight to Harvard. Not a lot of people can say that about their daughter.”

“Yes, sir. She’s real great.” Billy glances at Heather. She’s going crimson. Probably because this is the nicest he’s ever been about her. He kind of feels bad about that now. He’s really not one to give praise for anything outside of his favorite body parts.

“And there’s been no...messing around? No funny business?” Mr. Holloway looks at Billy with a sinister glint in his eye.

Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “I’m not really sure what you mean, sir.”

Mr. Holloway leans forward.“I _ mean, _ have you been trying to get your _ paws _ on my little girl? I know how teenage boys work. Especially the ones that try to hide from me.” He gives Billy a sharp smirk that reminds him of Tommy. “Only ever think with their pricks."

Billy stiffens. Heather’s hand goes hot and clammy in his. He can’t believe he would say all that right in front of her. He’s trying to catch him off guard. Make him fuck up. Well, Billy isn’t going to fucking stutter.

“Absolutely not.” He looks her dad straight in the eyes, unblinking. “I would never disrespect you like that.”

Heather’s squeezing his hand so hard it might fall off. Mr. Holloway is silent. Looks him up and down for a moment. Exhales a puff of earthy smoke.

“That Camaro yours?”

“Yes, sir.”

He nods, taps his cigar ash into a silver tray.“That’s a good-looking car.”

Billy raises his brows. This must be leading to another dig at him. “Yes, she is.”

“Reminds me of my T-bird back in the day.” Mr. Holloway muses.

“Nice...” Billy says slowly, carefully.

Mr. Holloway points a thick finger at him. “Take good care of that thing. Don’t wrap it round a tree like I did.”

“I won’t, sir.”

“Now.” Mr. Holloway smiles at Heather, all charm. Paternal. “Honey, why don’t you both go wait in the sitting room? Have some refreshments. Dinner’s served in twenty minutes.”

Heather breathes what can only be a sigh of relief. “Yes, Daddy.” She yanks Billy towards the door. Billy glances back at Mr. Holloway. His chair has already spun around.

He’s guided back to the joyless sitting room. He’s not sure if people actually ever sit here or not. It feels so empty.

“Holy _ shit_.” Billy mutters when they take a seat on Heather’s stiff couch, hands still joined. He glares at her, keeps his voice low.“Why didn’t you _ warn _me?”

“You were already freaked out enough as it is.” Heather whispers. She looks so strained. “I’ve also never seen him that mean before.”

“Is he in the goddamn _mafia_ or something?”

“Of course not.” She bites her lip. “You did a great job, though. He even said nice things about your car.”

“Yeah, pretty sure he woulda shot me right in the fucking face if I didn’t have that.”

“Well, just be glad Daddy’s a car freak.”

Billy takes a long breath. Looks back at the door of the study. “Does _ everyone _ have to go through that shit?”

Heather’s brows crease, doe-eyes in full effect. “Just everyone who doesn’t go to the country club...”

Jesus fucking Christ. Billy pulls his hand away from hers. His heart starts to pound again. He’s in _ way _ too deep now. Trapped in an episode of Dynasty. In a hell so godawful it's like it was designed for him.

And they haven’t even had dinner yet.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ :O ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cphNpqKpKc4)


	11. diamonds on my neck.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy has dinner with Heather's parents.

Billy and Heather sit awkwardly side by side in the Holloway living room. Billy's quiet. Fuming and nervous. He wants to strangle Heather for bringing him here. _Or_ push her into the couch and punish her with his dick. He runs his eyes over her tight velvet dress, her long legs. Fucking tease. She obviously wore that little number to rile him up. Of course she chooses to wear it on the night when he can’t do anything about it. Whatever. He’ll teach her a lesson later.

On that probably fucked up thought, an older brunette lady in a maroon pantsuit enters the room. Heather’s mom. It has to be her. Who else could it be? She’s obviously not the help. She glides towards them and Billy stands up despite himself. It's weird. It's too formal. It's not something he'd usually ever do. He hates himself right now. She gives Billy a quick once-over and it’s like getting knifed in the gut.

Heather stands up too, touches his arm in solidarity.

"Mother..." She says stiffly. "This is Billy."

“Hi.” Billy forces his most charming smile,one that he’s frequently used to much success. He stretches out his hand. Mrs.Holloway looks at his fingers for a beat too long and back to his face with eyes that scream revulsion.

Billy has never had this reaction from a woman in his life. He's stunned. He’s about to drop his arm when Mrs. Holloway suddenly gives his hand a brief firm shake. Her skin is _freezing_. Combined with her cold stare all he can think is _bitch._ It’s a word he’s used to throwing around but he’s sure he’s never been more accurate than now.

“Honey, this is the boy who’s been giving you a ride?”

“Um. Yes.”

“Wonderful.” She says with a fake smile, her eyes flitting over Billy’s earring. She turns to Heather, tone stern. “Remember what we said about filler words? No umming in this house, please.”

Heather lowers her gaze to the floor. “Sorry.”

She puts her hand on Heather’s shoulder and he swears he sees her flinch.“Rosita just finished making dinner. We’re having your favorite. _Caviar_.” She gives Billy another chilling glance before doing an elegant turn and walking back through the doorway.

He can't stop himself from shooting Heather a look almost as severe as Mrs. Holloway’s. “Your _favorite_?”

“I just tell her that so she won’t make me eat truffles.” Heather can’t meet his eyes, tugging on her sleeve. “Caviar isn’t _that _bad though.”

Billy exhales hard through his nose. “Like I said. Not touching that shit.”

He’s through the doorway and in the dining room before Heather tries holding his hand again. He’s not feeling particularly cuddly right now.

* * *

The long oak table that Billy’s been sitting at for the past few minutes is way too damn big for four people. Billy counts twelve seats. This can’t be where they usually sit. That would be stupid. There are multiple forks and spoons in front of him. There’s a couple of lit candelabra on the table. No. Three of them. Classical music plays soft in the background. Elaborate floral arrangements in every corner. It’s like they’re _trying_ to annoy him.

Heather appears by his side in a blur of red and when she flashes her doe eyes at him Billy almost forgets he’s pissed at her. He feels a jolt of heat when she smooths her little dress over her ass before she sits down. It hits him then that he’s already tasted her pussy in this nightmare mansion. That if he plays his cards right he’ll get to do it again. Go further. Fuck her in her daddy’s study or something. _That _would be too perfect. He grins at her at the thought. She gives a gentle smile in return, oblivious. He stops his gloating when Mr. Holloway sits down directly across from him.

Mr. And Mrs. Holloway thankfully don’t sit on opposite ends of the table like they do in the movies. That would just be ridiculous. Laughable. Not that this whole evening hasn’t been ridiculous and laughable to begin with. Mrs. Holloway is sitting at the head of the table, giving Billy the iciest stare he’s ever endured. It’s like she’s plotting to kill him. Maybe she should. Anything to get him out of this meal.

A heavy brown-skinned woman with gray hair comes up to him, balancing a silver tray . Her eyes are dark and warm and it makes Billy wish she could whisk him away to the kitchen to hide from these sociopaths.

“Caviar, sir?” She asks in a thick spanish accent.

Billy swallows dryly, eyeing the tiny black eggs she’s offered him. “No thanks.”

“You ever had caviar before, Billy?” Mr. Holloway beams from across the table. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. It never does.

“_No._” Billy enunciates. “And I don’t plan to.” He’s already giving up on brown-nosing this guy. It’s not like he’s gonna give him a break either way.

“Hmm. Not surprised.”

“No?”

“Typical for a guy like you.”

“A guy like me.” Billy repeats back, skin prickling in irritation. “And that means...?” He feels Heather grab his forearm under the table. A warning.

Mr. Holloway grins as he spoons caviar onto a cracker. “I think it’s pretty self explanatory.” He motions to the server. “A little more, Rosita.”

Billy has a thousand insults barrelling through his mind as Heather’s cautionary hold on him tightens. Billy bites his tongue, but her efforts to control his reaction piss him off. Does she think he’s whipped or something? Not a fucking chance. He pulls her hand off him and places it in her lap. When her parents start discussing the quality of the caviar, he leans in close to her ear with a gruff whisper, squeezing her fingers.

“Unless you’re planning on putting this down my pants,keep it to yourself, alright.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets saying them. Heather’s hand on his dick is _all_ he’s going to think about now. His cock kicks in his jeans when he sees Heather go bright pink, fingers burning up in his. He looks over at Mr.Holloway who’s now eyeing them with suspicion. Billy quickly releases her, offering him a tight-lipped smirk in return.

Billy’s thrilled when he notices that a champagne flute has been placed in front of him. He seriously hopes that it actually _is_ champagne. That the Holloways aren’t the type to pussy out on serving alcohol to teenagers and give him juice or something. He takes a sip. _Bingo_. He makes sure that nobody’s looking again before he shoots it back in one go, trying to hide his grimace at the bitter aftertaste. It’s strong. Cold and fizzy. Billy’s going to need another one soon.

Mrs. Holloway glances at the delicate gold watch on her wrist. “Where on_ earth_ are Hank and Debbie?”

“They’re always late.” Mr. Holloway shrugs, stuffing a caviar-covered cracker in his mouth.

Heather chokes on her wine, sputtering. “Hank and Debbie?”

Mrs Holloway raises her brows. “You know they come to dinner every few weeks.”

Heather is gripping her glass so tightly it might shatter. “Oh. I just uh-I just thought that um-”

“Hank and Debbie are our friends, Heather. We won’t let your personal life get in the way of that.”

Her _personal life_? Billy has no idea what the hell they’re talking about but he’s never seen Heather like this before. Before he can ask, the doorbell rings.

“Ah, that’ll be them.” Mr. Holloway gets up. “I’ll get it, Rosita. You can put out the foie gras now.”

_Foie Gras_? No. Fuck no.

He leans close to Heather again as Mr. Holloway leaves the room. “Isn’t that when they like, force-feed a duck?”

Heather nods, shoulders sagging with guilt. “Sorry.”

“Jesus...”

“I thought we were having salmon tonight.” She croaks. “That’s what I was told. I swear.”

“Whatever.” Billy mutters, sinking in his seat an inch. “Nothing could surprise me at this point.” He notices that Mrs. Holloway is watching him again and he sits up straight as a board.

He hears mixed laughter from the next room, and Mr.Holloway comes through the doorway with well-dressed company behind him. There’s a tall man. Beefy. Thick brown hair and one of those rich-people gaits that Billy’s starting to recognize. His eyes widen when he sees the small blonde lady next to him. She’s a _fox_. Big lips and a big rack. Tiny waist. Maybe he’ll survive the night after all. At least there’s eye candy.

“Billy, get up here and shake some hands for god's sake.” Mr. Holloway beckons to him. “What is it with kids these days? Raised in a goddamn zoo, am I right?.” He points a thumb at Billy and both he and the beefy man laugh. Billy squares his jaw and pushes back his chair, scraping it across the floor. It screeches so loud everyone in the room grimaces. He saunters over and shakes the big guy’s hand with his firmest grip. Dude looks sort of familiar though he can’t place where he’s seen him.

“Billy, this is Hank Harrington.” Mr. Holloway pats Hank on the back. “Good buddy of mine. We go way back.”

Billy freezes, instantly realizing why he looks so familiar. _Harrington? _Like Steve’s-fucking-_dad-_Harrington? He tears his hand away and wants to sanitize it. He was dead wrong about not being surprised. Of being prepared for the worst. They’ve entered a whole new flaming circle of hell now. The one where everyone’s getting stabbed with hot pokers and screaming for eternity.

Hank offers him a reptilian grin that oozes condescension. Billy hates him already. “Interesting style you got there, Billy. Very...flamboyant.”

“I like to make an impression.” He looks over at the busty lady. She’s staring at him_ real_ hard. In fact he’s pretty sure she’s been checking him out since she got here. Not unusual for him, but it’s the confidence boost he needs right now. He drinks it up. Takes her small hand in his, drapes his other palm over her knuckles. Flashes her the same smile that didn’t work on Mrs. Holloway. “And who’s _this_?”

“This here is Hank’s lovely wife, Deborah.” Mr. Holloway schmoozes.

“Deborah, huh?” Billy’s holding onto her for too long. He’s getting a kick out of how transfixed she is with him. Though it’s a little weird how much she looks like Steve. “Can I call you Debbie?”

It’s pretty damn forward but the champagne is making being bold easy.

Deborah smiles wide. “Of course. All my friends do.” She glances at her husband before pulling her hand back, flushing.

Billy almost laughs at her obvious response. He loves this shit. Chicks are all the goddamn same. On their knees and backs with the stupidest lines, the simplest touches. Chicks are easy. Fucking piece of cake. They fall for every trick in the book.

Unless they’re a Holloway.

“_Great_. Nice to meet you, Debbie.” Billy shoots her a sly look before turning back to the table, ignoring whatever dirty glare Hank is likely to be giving him now.

When he sits back in his seat, his glass is full again. Rosita must be looking out for him. Heather’s expression is somewhere in-between _did you seriously just do that _and _kill me now_. He leans in with a cocky grin and mutters. “Aw, don’t be jealous, babe. Just playin’ the game.” He tosses back more champagne.

“I’m not _jealous_.” Heather gives a soft snort. “And what’s the game? Screwing other people’s moms?”

“No. At least not _yours_.” Billy smirks at how she glowers at him. He glances at the Harringtons settling into their chairs, making small talk with Mrs. Holloway. He lowers his voice next to Heather’s ear. “Pretty boy’s parents, huh? What’s next? You gonna kick me in the balls for dessert?”

Heather offers him a syrupy-sweet smile. “I’m thinking about it.”

Billy chuckles. Heather’s cute when she’s pissed, eyes flaring and lips pursed up. He wants to kiss the strain off her face. Make her so soft she melts right under him. He just might do it. Make a scene. Who fucking cares. The night is a total shit-show anyways. Let it all burn down to the ground.

Then Rosita sets a plate before him and he has to suppress his gag reflex.

The entire concept of foie gras is ten times worse to Billy than whatever it could possibly taste like. Shoving food down a ducks stomach til it nearly bursts. Pretty much straight up torturing it. All for the sake of eating it’s swollen liver. It’s fucked up. Like all these stupid millionare delicacies. Like all these stupid millionare people.

Billy watches as Heather takes her roll of white cloth napkin and smooths it out onto her lap. He follows suit. Mr. Holloway lifts up his glass.

“A toast. To 1985. The best year of our lives, am I right or am I right, Hank?”

“We’re getting old, Tom.” Hank clinks Mr. Holloways glass as everyone leans forward to cheers.

Billy clenches his teeth and joins in with his half empty drink. Heather’s mom doesn’t clink glasses with him. He polishes off the last of his champagne, praying that the buzz will give him strength.

Billy glances at Heather to make sure he’s using the right fork before he starts picking at his food. Everyone’s digging into the duck liver and praising how tender it is. Billy doesn’t touch his.

After a while, he’s zoning out, chewing absently on bread. He doesn’t taste it. They’re talking about Christmas in New York, something about vineyards in France. Horse racing. Stock markets. What’s new at the country club. He’s not sure how much time has passed when Heather touches his arm again. Billy jerks his head up. Mr. Holloway seems to be waiting for him to say something.

“I _said_, what are your plans after graduation, Billy? You going off to college?”

Billy gulps. They’re finally at the part of the night he was dreading most. “Uh...”

Heather jumps in. “Billy’s going into the automotive industry, daddy.”

“The automotive industry?” Hank narrows his eyes. “What part? Sales?”

Billy clears his throat, pulse racing. “I’m not really sure. Mechanic, maybe.”

“So, you’re not going to college.”

“No.”

There’s dead silence. Everyone’s staring at him. He can feel a bead of sweat dripping down his spine.

Billy wants to thank Mrs. Holloway when she breaks the tension. “Heather’s going to Harvard, Hank. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“No kidding!” Hank chuckles. He points his finger at Heather. “You know, I’ve been trying to push Steve in that direction, but-well, you know how he is. Hopefully he’ll get his grades up...” He drifts off awkwardly, frowning. “Well, he’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“How is Steve?” Heather inquires, voice tentative.

“He’s been better.” Hank looks directly at Billy for a second.

Another awkward round of silence. He’s sure Heather regrets asking that. Why the fuck would she ask that?

“Don’t you worry your pretty head, Heather. He’ll be fine.” Hank continues. “Steve’s a good kid, but even Debbie and I said you were too smart for him.” He laughs before glancing at Billy again. “But sometimes who we end up with is a matter of plain luck, whether we deserve it or not. Isn’t that right, Billy?”

Billy has no response for that, just tightens his fingers around his dinner knife. _What an asshole._

For a long while there’s only the clank of cutlery against china. Mrs. Holloway and Debbie’s eyes are still burrowing into him. For entirely different reasons. Steve’s mom is practically licking her lips while Mrs. Holloway is probably imagining his head on a stake. He feels like a caged animal. They’re all going to either take pictures or throw garbage at his head.

He needs to catch his breath. Take a break from the agony that is this dinner. Also, he needs to toss his foie gras somewhere.

He waits until no one’s looking at him when he forks the duck liver into his napkin, and shoves it into his jean pocket.

“Where’s the bathroom?” He whispers to Heather.

When they make eye contact he can tell she’s struggling almost as much as he is. She points towards the exit.

“Down the hall and then to your left.”

Billy stands up, chair screeching again. “‘Scuse me.” He heads towards the door without looking back, feeling every eye in the room on him.

* * *

Billy hides the liver in the gaudy flower display at the end of the hall. For a second he feels bad for whoever’s going to have to clean this up. He’s so dejected he decides he doesn’t care. Fuck this place.

He finds the bathroom. It’s huge and opulent in typical Holloway fashion. He’s almost surprised that the toilet he pisses into isn’t made out of gold. He looks in the mirror. Runs a hand through his styled locks. He looks….well, like trash. Like complete fucking trash. He never realized just how much until he had to compare himself to an entire table of people wearing the latest Armani catalogue.

There’s no way he can step foot in this house again. Sure, pussy is great. Heather’s especially so. But is it worth this bullshit? No chick in the whole damn world could be worth this level of suffering.

Billy exits the bathroom and walks past the open door of the kitchen. He backs up to look inside. Rosita’s facing away from him, pudgy arms slaving away on some type of dessert. Maybe she’ll help him drown his sorrows.

“Rosita.” He hisses, leaning against the door frame. She doesn’t turn around. He tries again. “_Rosita._”

She looks behind her, smiles with kind eyes when she sees him.

“Got any more of that wine?” He mutters with a hopeful grin.

She shuffles towards him, looking concerned. “You drink so much already...”

“I could drink a helluva lot more than that right about now. Trust me.”

“_Tan lindo_.” Rosita reaches up and pinches his cheek like he’s five. For some reason he’s okay with it. “Very handsome.”

Billy beams,teeth tugging at his bottom lip. “Does that mean I can have more wine?”

“No.”

“How ‘bout a shot of tequila?”

“No!_”_ Rosita chuckles. She pauses, scanning over him for a moment. “Miss Holloway talk about you all the time.”

_Shit. _Billy doesn’t want to hear this right now. Not when he’s contemplating climbing out a window and booking it across the border. “She does?”

“Si. Every day. You be nice boy to her, no?”

“Uh…” He swallows. “Sure.”

She laughs at the fear in his eyes, patting his cheek. “I give you juice.”

Billy leaves the kitchen, glass of apple juice in hand, more conflicted than ever.

* * *

When he settles back into his seat, everyone’s staring at him again.

“How was the foie gras, Billy?” Mr. Holloway grins.

_Fuck._ He must fucking know.

“Best I’ve ever had.” Billy deadpans.

Mr. Holloway sips casually at his wine glass. Hank mutters something in his ear and he laughs while giving Billy another once-over.

Thankfully, they all ignore him after that for the next five minutes. Billy picks at his vegetables, his mind going numb. He kind of wishes he never told Heather to stop touching him. He’s never felt more alone.

He glances over at her. She looks back, offers him a little smile. She moves her head near his. “How are you doing?”

Like he’s going to be honest and say that he’s thought of fifty escape plans since he got here. “Rosita’s nice.”

Heather's eyes light up. “I love her _so_ much.”

All Billy can think of her is that she just shoved apple juice into his hand and patted his head like he's a fucking toddler. But, he sort of gets it. Compared to Heather’s parents, Rosita is Mother Teresa.

“It’s almost over.” Heather whispers.

“What?” He was expecting four or five courses. Hours of being prodded and poked and stared at.

“Daddy has to get up early for a big meeting tomorrow. Dessert's next, and then it’s over.” She smiles.

Billy could cry tears of joy. “Cool.”

He can feel himself smiling inadvertently, already picturing himself in his car blasting Slayer and driving into the distance. His prayers have been answered. A miracle. Then he feels eyes on him again.

It’s Debbie. She’s looking at him like he’s tonight’s main meal. Maybe he shouldn’t have hit on her like that. He was only playing. Flirting to him is like a hobby, something to make him feel like he’s alive, worth something. He’s not _actually_ gonna bone her. Sometimes chicks take everything the wrong way.

“_Billy._” Debbie purrs, elbow on the table,chin resting on her hand. “Have you ever been to the Hawkins country club?”

Everyone’s gawking at Debbie now, eyebrows raised. Billy’s heart starts drumming in his chest. “No?”

“You should come out. We’d _love_ to have you.”

She must be insane. It’s the only explanation. “I dunno, Debbie. Not really my scene.”

“I’ll say.” Hank mutters, holding his drink in a vice-grip as he takes a swig.

“Oh, you’ll love it. There’s croquet, a tennis court, even _polo_.”

Billy nearly bursts out laughing. “Uh..._yeah_. Sounds great. I’m real busy though.”

“Doing what?”

He gnaws at his bottom lip. “High school?”

Mr. Holloway butts in. “Come on, Billy, what’s a day of missed homework to a mechanic? Pretty sure you don’t even need to graduate for that.’ Both he and Hank break out into hearty chuckles. “You should come. Spice the place up with that interesting..._hair_ you got there.”

Billy’s analyzing Mr. Holloways face. This must be a set-up. Another thing to make him look like a fucking idiot in front of Heather and all the rich assholes of Hawkins.

“I’m good.”

“Yup.” Mr. Holloway elbows Hank with a smirk. “Just like I thought.”

“Thought what?”

Mr. Holloway looks him dead in the eye, grinning sharp. “Coward.”

Billy can feel the entire room holding their breaths. Everybody’s waiting for his response. Billy’s cornered. Because Billy never turns down a challenge. And it’s really too bad because this one’s going to fucking suck.

_“Jeez. _Fine. I'll go." He shrugs. "Just didn't realize I'd be in such high demand."

“_Excellent_. How about when this damn snow melts? We’ll take you then.”

This should be a nice offer. Pleasant. A thoughtful invitation. It still only feels like a threat. Also, it implies that Heather and him will still be together when the snow melts. And that’s like...months from now. He never thought that far ahead before. He’s only thought -no, _obsessed_\- about as far as getting inside her. After that it’s just nothingness. That’s normal for Billy. He’s never even gone out with any chick for more than a few weeks.

“Alright.”

“We’ll make a man of you yet, Billy-boy.” Mr. Holloway jeers.

Billy just stares at his plate, says nothing. He feels so dead inside. Devoid of comebacks, of wit, of fire. He’s just...exhausted.

Heather's looking at him with soft eyes. Reaches out and touches his hand underneath the table. Billy squeezes her fingers without thinking before jerking his hand away again. He’s so fucking confused right now. He can’t let her keep getting into his space all emotional and shit. He’s already been way too weirdly intimate with her tonight, letting her hold his hand for like a goddamn year. He’s not a bitch like that.

But damn, does she feel good.

* * *

Dessert is real nice. Some sort of milky custard thing. Tart and sugary. Best experience of the whole night.

Then it’s standing up to say goodbyes and shake everyone’s hand again. It’s awful. Hank grips his hand so hard he nearly shatters his bones. Debbie actually_ hugs_ him, fingers sliding up his back until he has to squirm out of her clutches. Mr. Holloway pats him on the shoulder and tells him _I didn’t know my daughter was into fruitcakes_. Mrs.Holloway doesn't touch or talk to him, slithers away like he’s poisonous.

Hank and Debbie go home first. Then it’s just Billy standing outside in the cold by the front door, smoking a cig, waiting for Heather. He’s going to say goodbye but not in front of her stupid parents.

When she comes out, closing the door behind her, Billy tosses his cigarette out onto the gravel in the distance. Grabs her to him and kisses her rough. He wants her so bad. It’s been weeks and he’s starving. Famished for her.

She gasps.“Billy-I”

“Shut up.” He growls. He holds her tighter to him, mouth needy, pulling at her bottom lip before sliding his tongue over hers. His mouth moves to her ear. “I can’t _believe_ you fucking put me through that.”

“I’m so sorry.” She moans when he nips at her neck. “I didn’t know they’d be so weird. I can’t believe how mean they were to you. I’m really sorry.”

“Fuck it, it’s fine, but next time you’re coming to my house.” Ideally he’s never going to set foot in this place again. Unfortunately, doing that would likely mean losing the sweet thing that’s in his arms right now. Life isn’t fair.

Billy skims his hand up her thigh. “What was _really_ mean was you wearing this little thing and not being able to get my hands on you.” His fingers travel under the hem of her dress, feeling up her ass through the sheer stocking. She writhes against him with a breathy giggle.

“I'm not even showing any skin.” She whispers, kissing him soft, slow. Arms snug around his neck.

“It’s tight as hell though. I can see fucking _everything_.” He grins against her mouth. “Not even wearing a bra, are you?” He slides his other hand up and drags his palm over her breast, thumb stroking over the nipple hardening under red velvet.

She’s breathing heavy, giggling some more. “My boobs are small enough to get away with it.”

“You’re not getting away with anything. Not while I'm here.” He pinches her nipple, kissing her hard again as his hand glides under the waistband of her stockings. Under the lace of her panties. He groans a little in her mouth when his fingers find the taut flesh of her ass.

“Billy, we-”

“You honestly think you’d wear that without me trying to cop a feel? You really don’t fucking know me.” He squeezes her some more, plain greedy. He's rock-hard now. “Fuck, you feel so damn good.”

“Billy..” She whines. “This is a really bad place to do this. Daddy’s gonna come and check on us.”

“Fuck him.” He mutters against her mouth. His hand slides further down, til he can feel the slick of her pussy from behind. “_Jesus, y_ou been sitting in this mess all night?”

Heather slants her mouth over his, writhes against him more, lets his fingers graze over wetness. He’s about to finger her when she stiffens up in his arms, looking behind him with wide eyes.

“_Billy._” She hisses, yanking his hand out of her stockings, wrenching herself out of his grasp. Billy glances over his shoulder.

Mrs. Holloway is poised behind the nearest window. Just stands there looking at them for a few seconds before retreating into the dark.

“Oh my _god_.” Heather presses her hands over her face. “She’s gonna kill me.”

“Whatever. From that angle, she probably only saw me kissing you.”

“Still!”

“Oh come _on_, they won’t even let me fucking kiss you?” Billy scoffs. “I’m sure they know I’ve done that and more by now. At least your dad definitely does.”

Heather’s biting her thumbnail, staring at the ground. “Maybe it’ll be okay…”

“Jesus, calm _down_. C’mere.” Billy wraps his arms around her. “No wonder you’re such a fucking spaz. Actually, after tonight, I’m surprised you’re not more fucked up than you are.”

Heather laughs against his chest, but it’s still choked with tension. “Was that your attempt to be nice?”

“I never try to be nice.”

“Good, because that was awful.”

He smirks, just holds her against his chest for a few moments, letting her settle down. She doesn’t really, still tense in his arms, but it still feels good. So good he forgets how soft and stupid he’s being.

Heather’s the one that pulls away. “I should go inside. They’re probably going to give me a lecture on the birds and the bees or something.”

“Huh. Well, hopefully I’ll see you again after this.” Billy teases, though a part of him actually is wondering if they fucked up everything within five minutes of being alone together. Who knows with these people.

“It’ll be fine...I think.”

He kisses her hot and quick on her parted mouth. “I'll call you, okay? And then we'll go to this fucking stupid-as-shit dance or whatever.”

“Okay.” She smiles, backing towards the door. “Bye, Billy.”

“Bye.” He turns to head to his car.

“Billy?”

He glances behind him. “Yeah.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” Billy shrugs, hands digging into his jacket pockets. “See ya.”

Billy strides down her front steps, takes a few paces down her driveway before looking behind him again. Heather hits him with another one of those pretty smiles of hers before she’s gone.

There's something deeply wrong with him.

Billy’s never looked forward to a dance this much in his whole damn life.


	12. over and over.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Heather go to the Hawkins High Winter Dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's short and sweet.

Billy picks up Heather around 7 pm that Friday.

He honks his horn instead of ringing her doorbell. It’s going to be awhile before he has the courage to step foot in that house again. He’s still recovering from dinner with Satan and his loaded minions. He'll probably be seen as chickenshit but he accepts that. Just sits at the end of the driveway like he always does, blasting Def Leppard to eardrum-shattering levels.

He didn’t dress up much tonight. Just threw on his good red shirt and a leather jacket. Put on more hairspray and cologne than usual. He feels pretty relaxed about it after meeting Heather’s parents. Anything after _that_ is a fucking cake walk in comparison.

Weirdly, the dance is held before the new semester even begins. One last festive hurrah before the schedule turns and Billy has to think of new classes, new faces, new anxieties. He's gonna try his best not to think about it until he absolutely has to.

Heather's walking towards him now, pale blue dress peeking out from under her wool jacket. Her hair is half up in a matching silky bow. When she rounds the Camaro and meets his eyes she flashes a smile, gives a little wave. Billy turns the volume down on the wailing guitars. She's the only one he'd ever do that for.

The passenger door opens and he feels that familiar electric heat in his spine. Never seems to go away. Only gets worse when she plunks down next to him.

“Hi.”

Her eyes are made up, lined and smokey. Pink lips shiny. Billy doesn’t know much about makeup but he’s not too dumb to notice she’s very good at it.

“Hey.” He leans in and kisses her. Slides his tongue past her lips right off the bat. His hand reaches out to cup her silken cheek, thumb stroking over her jaw. Her lipgloss tastes like candy. Her soft mouth meets his with equal heat. It’s hard to stop. He could eat her right up. When he does pull away it’s only to take in how good she looks. “You’re fucking pretty.”

“You too.” She grins.

Billy chuckles, kisses her even deeper, wetter. He’s feeling pretty aggressive right now. He’s just never wanted anyone this bad. She’s too tempting. Irresistible. A dark-eyed nymph he must hunt down.

Billy guesses it's because this is the longest he’s ever been with a chick without even getting blown. With anyone else it would be a deal breaker. With her it’s just par for the course. If he wants the gold he has to work for that shit. Maybe he’s growing up or something.

He breaks the kiss when he remembers why she’s here. He gives a frustrated sigh, forcing himself to cool off. It's not that easy.

“So I guess we’re actually going to this thing.” He puts the car into drive, pulling onto the road.

“Weren't you the one that invited me?”

“I mean, I _was_ kind of drunk when I asked.” Billy draws a cigarette from behind his ear, puts it in his mouth. It's one of Neil’s shitty hand-rolled ones. He pulls out his lighter from his jacket and runs the flame over the end.

“So you don’t want to go?”

“Doesn’t matter what I want.” He mumbles, cigarette dangling between his lips. He rolls down the window a crack. Takes a deep drag and exhales smoke into the cold. “I’m a man of my word.”

He isn’t really, but it sounds good.

Heather’s doing that annoyed, crossed-arms pout she does. “It’s kind of lame that you have to force yourself to go.”

“It’s not a big deal. Tommy’s gonna bring pot, probably sneak in some booze.”

“So you’re just going to get high and drunk?”

“No. They probably got chips there and stuff.”

“Are you going to _dance_?”

Billy flicks cigarette ash out the window. “I don’t dance.”

“Well, what’s the point of even going then?”

“I just said Tommy’s bringing pot and booze.”

“_Great._”

“Look, sweetheart, just be glad I’m taking you.”

Heather goes cold and silent. Starts digging in her bag for something. She pulls out a polaroid camera and points the lens at him. Billy flinches when the flash goes off, hand coming up to block the glare.

“Jesus, could you _not_?”

“Hey, if you can get drunk, I can take pictures.”

“Okay, just don’t _blind_ me while I’m driving, alright?”

“Sorry.” A square of photo paper slides out of the camera. She stares at it, brows creased.

She’s pissed. Fuck, they haven’t even gotten there yet and she’s already bitchy.

“Look, if you’re gonna be all mad about it, I’ll fucking dance with you.” Billy mutters

“You will?”

“Yeah. But like, just a slow dance. I’m not gonna jump around to some bubble-gum pop shit.”

“You wanna dance _slow_ with me?” She teases.

“Doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Gets me bonus points for later."

“Later?”

He flashes her a grin. “You know, for when I get to show you my _real _moves.”

“Oh my god.” Heather scoffs but she’s smiling back at him. “You never stop, do you?”

“Nope.” He tosses his cigarette out the window. Moves his hand to her thigh and runs his fingers over her knee. It feels right. If he’s being honest, it feels kinda wrong when he’s _not _touching her. “So when do you gotta be home?”

“Ten-thirty.”

Billy snorts. “Damn, your parents really don’t trust me, do they?”

“Should they?”

He squeezes her knee. “Probably not.”

* * *

The scene inside the Hawkins gymnasium is pretty close to what Billy expected for a highschool dance. Streamers of blue and white. Poor selection of snacks and refreshments. Loud obnoxious pop music. Smells like ass. Billy wasn’t missing anything by never going to one of these things.

The worst part is that nobody’s here. Well, no one that matters. Just a bunch of pimply, awkward freshman and a few people he recognizes from English class.

Billy runs his gaze over Heather. She’s not wearing her jacket now. She looks real good in blue. Real good in anything. “You wanna get stoned? Tommy said he’d meet us in the back.”

To his surprise Heather says yes.

When they push open the backdoor of the gymnasium, Tommy’s standing there with Carol at his side. Carol’s absorbed with looking into a compact mirror, smearing on coral lipstick that matches her dress. She got a poodle perm over winter break. 

“Where the fuck_ is_ everybody?” Billy grunts.

Tommy turns around, coughing. His eyes are already glazed as hell. “Hey _buddy_! How’s it- oh _hey _Heather. Long time, no see. You wanna hit this shit?” He lifts up a half-smoked doobie to her. “Billy says you’re kind of a stoner. Pretty cool if you ask me.”

Heather shoots Billy a look of irritation before turning back to Tommy. “Sometimes.”

“Well, guess this is one of those times, ain’t it.” He passes Heather the joint. “This is good shit by the way. You’re gonna be _flying_.”

Tommy always says crap like that. The pot is never that great. Heather wraps her glossy lips around the joint and Billy watches, leaning up against the cement wall next to her. He’s seen her get high before but it’s still so weird that he gets a kick out of it.

“So where is everybody?” Billy repeats, as Heather passes him the joint. She’s huddled close to him now. Probably for warmth. It’s fucking freezing out here. Billy drapes an arm around her bare shoulders, hand running over her cold skin. He wants to kiss her forehead but he won't let himself.

“Harrington’s throwing a party at his place last minute. Everyone’s gonna be going.”

Jesus, this guy is like an omnipotent force. Manages to fuck with him even when he’s not there.

“We’re probably gonna go there pretty soon.” Carol pipes up, lips looking orange. “This dance is _lame_.”

Billy inhales deep, holding in smoke. “So you’re ditching.” He breathes out a creamy haze, coughs a little. This stuff's actually stronger than he anticipated. He feels the high coming on by his second toke.

“Yeah man, you should come.” Tommy offers. "There's gonna be a keg and everything."

Billy leans down to Heather’s ear. “You wanna go?”

“Um...don’t really wanna go to Steve’s right now.” She murmurs, pulling her camera out of her bag again.

Good. Neither does he. Not unless they’re trashing the place.

“Hey! You’re taking polaroids?” Carol rushes in front of Heather, twisting into a hammy pose. Heather takes a snap. Billy thinks she shouldn’t waste her film. “Come here, Tommy.” Carol pulls Tommy to her and he dips in looking stoned off his ass.

Heather snaps another one. She takes the paper from the slot, watching their figures form slowly on the surface. “You guys look...great.”

“Let me see!” Carol grabs the polaroids out of her hand. “Oh my god, Tommy, look at you!”

“What can I say? Always been photogenic.” Tommy reaches into his jacket and pulls out a metal flask. Twists off the cap and takes a hearty swig.

“These are mine now.” Carol shoves the pictures into her fuzzy pink purse.

“Alright.” Heather turns and takes a picture of Billy. He just smirks, joint smouldering between his fingers. Nonchalant. He doesn’t really mind having his picture taken. He knows it’s hard to catch him at a bad angle.

“I wanna take a picture of _you _now.” Billy purrs. He hands the joint to Tommy.

“Okay.” Heather places the camera in his hands, backs away to get into frame, running her hand through her thick wavy hair.

Billy points the lens at her. “Now do something sexy.”

"No!" She scoffs, putting a hand on her tilted hip. 

He snaps the picture, catching it as it slides out the camera.

"I want to see." Heather comes over and reaches for the photo, but he holds it up high. She reaches again and he blocks her easily with one arm.

Billy grins as he watches her develop on the paper. “Damn, you’re cute when you’re mad.”

“Oh my god, let me _see_.” She leans into the side of his torso, stretching and grasping. “_Billy._” He pretends to give it to her, only to dodge her fingers with a chuckle. He finally lets her take it after he gets his fix of her tits rubbing all over his chest.

She snatches the polaroid from him, eyebrows raising when she scans her eyes over herself, still materializing. “Hey, I actually look kinda good here.”

Billy plucks the photo from her hand. “That’s why I’m saving that one for later.”

“Gross.”

“You know it.” He stows the picture away in his back pocket.

Billy glances over at Tommy and Carol who are now sucking face. It’s pretty disgusting. Billy doesn’t get how Tommy still has the hots for this bitch after years of dating.

“We’re gonna go now.” Tommy tears himself away to mumble. “You two lovebirds don’t get too crazy, alright? Wrap it up. Stay safe.” He pats Billy on the shoulder. Shoots finger guns at him like a fucking dork before staggering away in Carol’s arms.

Heather just looks at Billy with wide eyes. Then erupts into laughter.

* * *

When they’re back in the gymnasium, there’s a slow song playing. Some kind of Phil Collins crap.

“Well. Now or never.” Billy drags Heather onto the floor, pushing through layers of sweaty freshmen. When they reach the center, he yanks her to his chest, takes her arms and plants them around his neck.

“You’re so forceful.” She giggles as he wraps his arms around her waist.

“You wanted to dance, sweetheart, so let's fucking dance.”

They start moving in time to the cheesy melody. It’s nice and easy. Billy actually doesn’t mind this. It feels kind of good to have his arms around her. To move with her to a beat. He gets lost in it, stares into her eyes. She looks back without hesitation and it doesn’t feel weird. In fact, it’s sort of strange how at ease he is. How he doesn’t want to look away. Must be the weed.

“I’m really glad you asked me to this.” Heather smiles.

“Yeah, it’s not so bad. Pot definitely helps though.”

Heather leans her head in the crook of his neck. “It’s actually nice that you’d do it, even though you didn’t want to. Same with coming to dinner the other night.”

“Well, if I didn’t meet your parents you said I wouldn’t be able to hang out with you.”

“That’s what I mean. You still wanted to see me.”

Billy honestly never really thought about it too much.

“I guess I like you or something.” He shrugs.

“I like you too.” Her arms tighten around him.

“And here I thought you were smart.”

The song ends. The opening riff of Joan Jett’s “Crimson and Clover” resonates through his body.

_Ah, I don’t hardly know her._

Billy actually likes this song, saw the music video on MTV a couple of times.

_But I think I can love her._

He holds Heather closer. She looks up at him, dewy-eyed and glowing. She's so happy.

_Crimson and clover._

He leans down. Kisses her slow, sensual. Consuming. The music and the moment meld together in perfect harmony. Like a dream. Like it _means_ something. When they pull apart, he just wants to keep going. Especially when she's looking at him like that. Like she wants him.

_My my, such a sweet thing._

“Billy?”

_I wanna do everything._

“Uh-huh.”

_What a beautiful feeling._

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

Billy knows exactly what she’s implying as soon as she says it. He didn't expect this. “You sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

He's pulling her towards the exit before she even finishes the sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ ****](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdhonK8NMm8)
> 
> (also if anyone cares what Phil Collins song they danced to it's "One More Night". K bye)


	13. didn't i make you feel.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather goes to Billy's house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gratuitous smut ahead.

Billy is parked in front of his place. Tongue deep in Heather's mouth. His car lies alone in the gravel driveway.

Neil and Susan went out to drink and play poker at a neighbors house. They probably won't get home until real late if he's basing it on the past few months. Only a couple of weeks ago Neil had staggered into their dark house at one in the morning. 

Eventually they manage to make it out of the Camaro. A momentary gap before they cling to each other again. Billy drags Heather to the side door of the house, stealing hot kisses and feeling her up the entire way there. They're both a mess, drugged on lust. Billy struggles with unlocking the door, unable to take his mouth off hers for even a moment.

They could have just fucked in the backseat, but Billy's fantasized about this scenario taking place in his bed for far too long. He’s not about to mess that up for himself. Also, it’s pretty damn awkward having sex back there. Cramped. Someone always winds up with a kink in their neck or bashing their head against a window or something. She’s probably too good for a quick lay in the backseat anyways. At least for now.

It's only when they stumble inside that Billy realizes how weird this must be for her. How small and shabby his house must be in her eyes. How _poor_ they must look. How barren. He wonders what she thinks of it all. What she thinks of him. His desire cools a little at the idea of her judging.

"It ain't much...but..._well_.” He gestures vaguely at the living room. “...yeah."

She looks around briefly but she's still much more focused on wrapping her arms around him, on kissing his neck. Nuzzling him. "I like it."

She's just horny. Billy's sure she'll have a moment of clarity after she comes. After she realizes his whole family is trash. That she's better than this. He pushes that thought out of his mind. He’ll think about the repercussions later.

He guides her to his room. He was smart and cleaned up before he left for the dance, picking up empty beer cans. Emptying his overflowing ash-tray. Making his bed. He even folded his fucking laundry. Just in case.

It's the cleanest his room’s been since he first unpacked all his boxes months ago. He kinda had a feeling this was gonna be the night. Probably would have tried to weasel his way back here with her whether she offered or not.

Billy clicks on the lamp by his bed and the room glows dusky orange. He takes his keys and Heather’s polaroid out of his jeans, places them on his bedside table.

"I'm gonna talk to Max for a sec." He plants a hungry kiss on her lips. When he pulls away her eyes are half-lidded, dreamy with desire. They give him chills, make him want. He leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

Max's door across from his is open a crack, light seeping into the hallway. He knocks on the door frame.

"What?" Max huffs.

He opens the door. Max is on her bed. Sprawled on her stomach, reading comics.

"Heathers here."

Max raises a brow. "Okay?"

He shoots her a devilish grin. "I'd put my headphones on if I were you..."

Billy dodges a pillow thrown at his head.

"Ew!"

"Don't say I didn't warn you." He chuckles, shutting her door, hearing another pillow land against it.

He returns to his room where Heather's looking through a crate of his records. He comes up behind her, wraps his arms around her slim waist, lips pressing into the side of her neck. She makes a soft sound as he gently grinds his hips against her.

"What do you wanna listen to?" One hand slides up to grope her tits through her dress.

"I don’t really know any of this stuff. It’s a lot of metal.” She says breathily.

"I've got a few girly albums." Billy reaches around her, flipping through the records.He pulls out Fleetwood Mac. Heart. Janis Joplin. Placing them on top of the closed record player.

“I love all of these.”

“Good.”

"Which one _haven't_ you had sex to yet?"

Billy laughs, squeezing her tighter to him. "Janis..."

"Then Janis it is." Heather picks up Janis Joplin's Greatest Hits.

Billy takes the record from her. "Why don't you lie down and I'll set this up?"

Heather smiles sweet. Flops backwards on his bed. Glances around his room.

"Your room is cleaner than mine" She states, clearly surprised. Billy picks up his spice-scented candle and lights the wick.

"That's no accident."

“Not usually like this?”

“Nope.” He shrugs. “Just had to win.”

"Win?”

"Guess I just had to beat you at something. Other than what I'm about to beat you at now."

"And what's that?"

"How many times in a row I can make your toes curl." He grins, sliding the record out of the case, setting it down in the player.

"I’m okay with you winning at that." She smiles back.

The opening guitar lick of "Piece of My Heart" rings out. Billy crawls on top of her, mouth searching hers. He reaches underneath her to unzip her strapless dress. Slides it down her, moaning low in his throat when her pink nipples pop into view. He suckles on them before pulling her dress completely off her body. It's lands on the floor in a hiss of flowing fabric. Billy gets his fingers in her soaked panties. Starts rubbing her clit in gentle strokes. She's breathing heavy, softly gasping against his ear.

Heather's more hands-on than usual. She slides her fingers over his hard-on through his jeans, unzips him, his cock jerking out into her hand. He’s so damn hard. He can barely contain himself when she wraps her fingers around him.

"Wow." She breathes, stroking him, eyes running over his length. "You have a really nice..."

Fuck, she's turning him on. "Damn, baby..."

"I want to-" She stops, just smiles suggestively at him.

"Wanna what?" He slips a finger into her pussy, strokes inside her. He has to hear her say it. He's been dying to hear her say it.

"Suck your cock." She whispers, writhing into his palm.

He almost growls, clutching her tight to him, kissing her hard. She pulls his hand out of her panties, starts pushing at his chest to pin him to the bed.

"God..." He rolls onto his back while she settles between his legs. "You have no idea how much I-_fuck_."

Her mouth is already on him. And she knows what she's doing. He slides a hand over his face for a moment, in shock at how this is actually happening. Her tongue feels so good. Her hand does too. She moves them together so perfectly. When he looks down at her, she's looking back at him, with a heat that’s more erotic than his wildest dreams.

He isn't going to last long. Not when he's been on edge for weeks. Not when she’s giving him head like_ this._

"Fuck, babe, you're too good at that." He groans, hand reaching down to grip her hair close to her scalp. "Yeah, look at me. Gonna make me come."

She just sucks harder, eyes locked with his. She moans a little, vibrations moving through his shaft. Billy moves his other hand to her cheek. Strokes her velvety skin.

"Yeah...come on, pretty baby. Just like that. Such a good girl.”

She keeps bobbing her head, tightens her grip, increasing the pace.

“Fuck." He gasps. He's so close. "Gonna come"

He spills into her mouth, hips jerking. She swallows. He wasn’t expecting that either, but she has no problem in sucking the last drops from him. Until he’s shaking under her.

"_Shit_." He says huskily. She pops her lips off the head of his cock.

"Was that okay?" She asks, looking all innocent now. Billy can’t tell whether it’s an act or she honestly doesn’t realize how much of a little slut she just was.

“_Okay?_”

Billy pulls her up to him until she’s laying across his chest, his arms wrapped around her. He's dizzy, feverish, heart pounding. Blissed out. He’s incapable of speech for a few moments before managing to blurt:

"So you're telling me your stupid ex in Connecticut got head like _that_. And he never even made you come _once_? What the fuck." He grumbles, lightheaded. "You were so good. So damn good, babe." He kisses her throat, runs his hand down her back. Her skin is so soft.

"I really liked doing that for you." She skims her fingers over his arm, making patterns.

"I mean, you've kinda been holding out on me but I'd say it was worth it. Damn…” He sighs. “I dunno if I can let you leave now."

“You’re going to keep me as your sex slave?” She smiles against his skin.

“Yup. Blowjobs five times a day as a rule." He chuckles. "And if you don't obey I'll fuck you into submission." He spanks her ass hard. Heather squeals, tensing up in surprise before she laughs.

They go silent in each others arms.Janis is belting out “Summertime.” Heather starts grinding her hips against him in subtle thrusts. Billy runs his hand over her spine, her backside. Feels the wetness between her legs. She kisses him. So much hunger on her lips. So lusty. He needs to taste her.

"Sit on my face." He murmurs.

"Your face?"

"You've never done that before?"

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Your boyfriend was a fucking moron.” Billy reaches to help pull her damp panties down and off her legs. He is sort of glad he can introduce her to something. Teach her something new for once. "C'mere."

Billy drags her up and over his face, her smooth thighs straddling his head. Heather cautiously hovers over him before he yanks her to his mouth.He runs his tongue over her a few times and her legs tremble. Billy’s lips tug into a grin before he licks her again, zeroing in on her clit. She isn't going to last long either. Fuck, she tastes good.

He worships at her flesh. Gorges on her. She's so wet she's dripping down his face already. Billy doesn't take his time. He wants her to come. He sucks at her clit with persistent strokes of his tongue. Gives her ass another spank and she gasps. She’s so overwhelmed by her oncoming release she tries to shift away from him. Billy holds her thighs tight and she comes hard, forehead pressed against the wall, whole body jerking with pleasure. She moans his name on the last gush of her orgasm.

She climbs off him with a whimper. Lies down next to him, cuddling into his neck, whispering praise in his ear. Billy gives her heated kisses. He's hard as hell again.

He pulls his jeans down, kicks them off the bed. Unbuttons his shirt and flings it across the room. "You on the pill?"

Her gaze roves over his naked body. She strokes her hand down his chest, nails grazing his skin. It tickles. "No."

Kind of disappointing but he’s prepared. He rolls away from her, reaches into his drawer for a condom. Tears the wrapper with his teeth. When he looks back at Heather, she’s lying on her belly, staring at him. All hooded eyes and flushed cheeks. Lips kissed rosy. He gets a flare of heat in his abdomen.

"You want me to do it that way?" He rolls the condom down his shaft. "From behind?"

She nods, hand reaching out to slide over his.

Billy lays himself over her, lips and tongue grazing over her neck, her spine. She shivers. "I'm gonna wanna look at you eventually, you know."

"Just for a bit like this." She sounds delirious, dazed.

"Alright, sweetheart. You just relax." He runs the head of his cock over her clit, her opening. "I'll take good care of you."

"I don't want you to take care of me.” She protests. “I want you to do me the way you want."

Billy didn’t expect that from her at all. His cock twitches against her wet flesh. "If I fucked you the way I want, baby, I’m pretty sure I'd break you." He nudges himself an inch inside her.

"I can handle it." She moans, giving a breathy gasp as he rocks his hips just a little.

"_I dunno_." He teases. Even through his lust he can't help but mess with her.

"Billy. _Please_. I know you've done so many girls like that. Just _fuck_ me. I want it."

That takes his breath away. She sounds so unlike herself. So horny. Slutty. A part of him wants to pound her so hard she begs him to stop. The other part just wants to rile her up even more.

"Mmm. Can't say I'll fuck you the way you want, sweetheart. But I _will _fuck you the way you deserve." He nudges into her further. They both groan at the sensation. She tries to grind back on his cock but she's pinned underneath him.

"You feel so good.” She whines. “Please, I want it so bad. "

"Tell you what." Billy mutters. "If you stop being so goddamn mouthy and let me treat you right..._maybe _I'll give you a good hard fuck." He grips the back of her hair, turns her head to the side, exposing her neck. "Only if you're a good girl for me though." He gently nips at her throat as he slides all the way into her.

Holy hell, she feels amazing. She's so snug, made for him. God. She's moaning. Sounds so sweet. Almost makes him lose his control right then and there. He takes a deep breath. Rolls his hips into her in a slow deep rhythm. She’s so wet he can hear the slick sound of her as he moves. She's going nuts. Writhing. She wants more. Keeps trying to push her hips back into him.

"Yeah, you want it hard?" He purrs, tone still teasing. He digs his hands under her til she's trapped in a vice grip in his arms. He bucks into her in sharp, powerful thrusts. Only its one thrust every few seconds. She's groaning. Whimpering. She sounds pitiful. He knows it's torture. Not enough.

"Please. Faster. _Billy._.." She sounds so desperate. Music to Billy’s ears.

"I don't think you've been a good girl yet. Too needy." His hand slips underneath her hips. Finds her clit. "Do you need to come again to calm the fuck down?"

“Please."

He strokes his fingers over her clit. Small circles. Moving his hips slowly against her. Biting her shoulder a little too deep. Kissing it better.

She's close again. He can tell by her breathing. The way she shudders. He pulls his hand away right before he thinks she’s going to come. She's whining again. "Billy."

He needs to see her face. He lifts his body off her, pulling out as she makes a sound of frustration. "Get on your back."

She turns over and Billy slides into her again. Buries his whole weight onto her and she clutches at him. He looks into her brown eyes. Glances over her parted mouth. She’s so fucking beautiful. He can't help but start picking up the pace. Until he’s finally jerking his hips in quick, rough snaps. "Like that, baby? That what you want?"

"Yes. Oh god, _yes_." She wraps her legs high around his waist. He twines his arms tight around her again so she cant move, her arms trapped. He's so deep now. Fuck, even with a condom on its almost too much.

He keeps pounding her hard. Bed squeaking violently. The music barely covers the sound. His mouth is on hers, just planted there while he gives it to her. She's moaning against his lips, breathing heavy through her nose.

She loves it. But she's not gonna come that way. He needs to get a hand on her.

He gets off her with a groan, hating the brief moment of separation. He pulls her into a spooning position tight against him, one arm around her as he guides his cock to her entrance. He thrusts slowly into her from behind,reaching his hand between her legs, circling her clit. Gives her deep sinuous thrusts, barely pulling out.

She's on the edge, hushed moans on every out-breath. Then she spasms with release, clenching around him, letting out a soft feral noise he's never heard from her lips before. Billy gives it to her rough again, movements rushed, frantic, close to his own peak.

He wraps her tight in his arms. Grips her so hard he’s probably hurting her, muttering breathlessly. "Yes baby, so good. Need you. Just like this. Fuck."

His own orgasm hits, sparks of white behind his eyes, body shuddering against her as he gives her his final thrusts. He's sweating, panting. Just holds her close as they both recover. He eventually pulls out. Leans over and tosses the wet condom in the wastebasket by his bed. He pulls Heather into his arms again.

"Christ...You’re a fucking dream, baby."

She looks back at him. Her eyes are watering up. "I-wow..."

"You okay?"

She nods, smiling.

He kisses her slowly, gently. "You always cry after you come?"

"With you I do apparently." She laughs, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “It’s just so intense.”

Billy smirks against her mouth, flattered. “Worth the wait?"

She rolls her eyes. "It wasn't _that_ long of a wait."

"Felt like a fucking lifetime to me."

“That doesn’t surprise me.” She rolls over to cuddle herself into his chest.

It’s quiet now. The record has finished playing, spinning soundlessly on the turntable. Billy reaches over into his bedside drawer. Pulls out a cigarette and lights up, breathing out a contented sigh when he exhales smoke. If there was ever a time for cigarette, this is it.

“Can I have a little bit?” Heather mumbles. Billy holds the cigarette to her lips. Lets her take a long drag before returning it to his own mouth.

He smokes calmly, one arm still around her, stroking his knuckles down the side of her temple. He feels so at peace. There’s really nothing to say. He’s just...happy to be alive. Mind clear, spacious. Free.

“I really like being with you.” Heather runs her hand over his chest, voice tender, careful. “Feels good.”

The moment of tranquility shatters. Her tone makes alarm bells go off in Billy’s head. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

Heather’s still for a long time, edgy. He can tell she’s trying to build the courage to say something. He doesn’t want to hear it.

“Do you still want to see me after this?” She asks softly.

“Yeah." Of course he does.

Heather takes a slow, deep breath. “Good. I was worried it was all gonna be over after we did it.”

“That was way too good to do just once.” Billy mutters between drags. “I’d be pretty damn stupid to let you go now.”

“Oh.” Heather sounds put off, voice strained. “Right.”

Uh-oh. It’s coming. The fucking talk.

“I’m not going to hang out with you _just_ for sex if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“But you still don’t want to call it anything, do you?”

He just _knew _she was going to do this. Girls are so fucking predictable.

“What is it with you chicks and labelling things?” Billy gripes. “I mean, I met your parents, I took you to a fucking dance. What more do you want?”

Heather pauses for a moment. “Would you ever call me your girlfriend?”

“Does it really matter?”

“A little...”

“I dunno.” Billy shrugs, shoulders tense with anxiety. “I don’t really think about that shit.”

“Haven’t you ever had a girlfriend before?”

“Not really, no.”

“But you’ve had a lot of sex, right.”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I've been doing it since I was like, twelve.”

“_Twelve?_”

“Older sister of a friend. Back in California. She sorta...showed me the ropes.” Billy puts his cigarette out on his bedside ashtray. "I mean, it probably wasn't right how it happened, but I guess you’ve benefited from it.”

“Sure.” She murmurs, voice still choked. Her hand tightens into a little fist against his shoulder.

She’s sad. He can sense it. Like a heavy weight on his heart. He wonders if she’s tearing up again. Fuck.

“Look. I’m not gonna promise you something I can’t give you, okay? I thought we agreed to that.”

“I know. It just feels...like more. Like you actually care about me.”

Billy shifts on the bed, can’t seem to get into a comfortable position. “I like hanging out with you. I like...doing stuff with you. I dunno what else to say.”

“I really care about you.”

His muscles go stiff. Throat tight.

“I...appreciate that?" He says awkwardly. He doesn’t know why it’s so hard to say it back. Its not like he doesnt feel it. The words are caught in his throat. Refuse to come out. Maybe he’s just too damn stubborn for his own good.

He can feel a small wet pool forming where her cheek meets his skin. He hates it. Doesnt know what to do.

Chicks always pull this kind of shit. Why did he think it was going to be any different with her? Did he honestly think she was just going to take things casually? Not give a fuck?

He shouldn’t have met her parents. Jumped through all those hoops. Such a stupid idea.

“Maybe we should take a break.” Heather shifts away from his chest, lies flat on her back against his arm.

“A break?”

“I fixed my bike chain. I don’t need a ride anymore.”

So she’s gonna give him the cold shoulder now. Bitch.

“You really think that’s necessary?” Billy snorts. “Or _smart_? Not exactly fucking bike weather out there."

“But you don’t care so it shouldn’t matter, right?”

Billy shakes his head, scoffing. “Hey baby, if you wanna freeze me out, go right ahead. I don’t give a shit.”

She’s silent again, biting her lip. He can see tears roll down her cheek. She’s so fucking dramatic.

He sighs. “Listen, I already _told_ you I like you. We’ve only been hanging out for like, not even a month. You’re seriously pushing it.”

“I know.” She admits. “I just thought we felt the same.”

Billy ignores that, segways back a minute. “Look, just take the damn ride, okay? Don’t bike to school in the middle of the fucking winter. It’s stupid and you know it.”

She nods miserably, sniffling. She looks up at him, face red and puffy. Eyes gleaming with moisture. She looks like she’s going to bawl like a goddamn baby. 

Billy strokes his hand down her shoulder. “Let’s just..keep doing what we’re doing. And see what happens."

"Okay. I'm sorry." She sniffs. She covers her face with her hands, breath shaky. "You still like me? Even though I can't stop crying?" She gives a brief laugh, sounds like a hiccup.

“You’re a cool chick. Of course I like you.”

He knows she wants more from him. Wants him to coddle her, give her sweet words. But this is the farthest he can go right now. It’s the farthest he’s ever been. He feels stretched so thin he might snap. Might break.

Before either of them can say another word, he hears the front door swing open, smashing against the wall before slamming shut.

Shit. Neil.

Billy glances at his clock. It’s only quarter to ten. His arm tightens around Heather. Ears straining. He hears a pair of stumbling footsteps coming towards them. Dragging and loud. No other sounds, no voices. Where the fuck is Susan?

“Who left the fucking door unlocked?” He hears Neil grunt. The footsteps draw nearer. Billy's holding Heather so tight she could bruise.

Billy wonders if he should go out and talk to him. In case he comes to his bedroom to look for him. It’s risky. He's not sure if Neil's looking for a fight or not. Sometimes he's just drunk and clumsy. Just noisy. Other times his fists land hard. But the last thing he wants is him to burst in with Heather here.

Then the footsteps retreat down the hall. He hears the fridge door squeak open. There’s the clinking of glass, scraping sounds before the fridge closes shut.

“Is that...?” Heather whispers.

Billy presses his fingers to her lips, shushing her.

There’s a belching sound. The footsteps fade into the distance. The front door slams again. 

Billy breathes a sigh of relief, tension dissolving. Neil just came home for more booze. 

“What just happened?” Heather asks, worry etched in her face.

“Not important.” He presses his lips to her cheek. He starts getting up, shifting her off of him. “I should get you home though.”

“Was that your dad?”

Billy hears Neil's car pull out of the driveway. "Yeah."

She doesn’t ask anything else. Maybe it’s pretty obvious he doesn’t want to talk about it.

He takes her home. Let's her pick the music, hand on her knee. He drops her off, kisses her goodbye, watches her walk to her front door. It's awkward. Weird and tense. She's holding back from him. He's just as wary.

Everything’s different now. Heavy. He feels...flat out depressed.

He hurt her. Showed her his fucked up home. Made her cry.

And he just knows it won’t be the last time tears are shed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ <3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCngPse1iiI)


	14. come play my game (i'll test you).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather and Billy start the new semester at Hawkins High.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all like rollercoasters...

Billy doesn't know what to do about the horrible tension in the air the weekend after having sex with Heather.

Slayer tickets go on sale. Billy buys two. He doesn’t know whether to invite her or Tommy. Whether to call her or not. Whether Heather would even go with him in the first place. He also doesn’t want to apologize. Not like he did anything wrong. She’s the one freaking out for no reason. She’s the one being delusional. She needs to get over it.

So he doesn't call. Just picks her up Monday morning for their first day of the new semester. The strain between them has never been worse. She won’t even fucking look at him. 

Billy's pretty confused. It was undoubtedly the best sex either of them ever had and now she's stiff as a board next to him. Plain bitchy. All that heat just to freeze up on him like the ice lining the gutters.

Not that the heat has _completely _disappeared. No, that would be impossible for them. If Max wasn't in the car he would have at least touched her by now. Would have tried to make her melt. 

Max can probably tell something is up. She's pretty good at reading between the lines. Except this time there's no smirking in the car mirror at him. She's just as awkward as Heather. Maybe it's because she definitely knows they fucked. Good. Like he needs another bitch to deal with.

Turns out him and Heather don't have any classes together this semester either. Billy doesn’t know what to feel about it. He always looked forward to seeing her in class on some level. Even when he hated her.

The day goes by slow and agonizing. Teachers introducing themselves in droning voices. Writing their names on boards. Making stupid jokes. Passing out forms to fill. Billy goes through it all in a distracted trance, barely absorbing anything. There’s an awful anxiety in him. He doesn’t want to be here. Can’t think straight. He _needs _to talk to her.

Billy spots Heather by her locker after fourth period. She doesn't acknowledge his presence, just glances at him and hustles off to her next class without a word. He didn't even know she could get that petty.

After school, Max goes to a friend's house. Some weirdo chick named El that dresses like a dyke. They both do actually. Whatever. If Max is into that shit Billy's not gonna step in. It's none of his fucking business. It's always bad luck when he steps in anyways.

At least now he can finally speak to Heather alone. Talk some goddamn sense into her. Make her stop acting like a cunt.

Except he’s been waiting in the parking lot for almost half an hour now and she’s still not here. Billy’s pissed. She's never made him wait before. Is she ditching him or something? Who the fuck does she think she is? He's about to drive off in a fury but he stops himself. He has to double check.

He gets out of his car, slamming the door shut, lips pressed into a mean line. Stomps through the front doors of the school. He knows he must look more mad than usual because all the stragglers keep to the walls to give him space.

He scans the halls and rooms aimlessly for a good while before having a memory of her saying that she was going to take Photography this semester. Billy follows his hunch and heads for the art room.

He trudges into the large space covered in mediocre drawings.Paint stains on the floor. Sloppy clay figurines line the windows. It's empty except for Jonathan Byers sitting at one of the huge tables, sorting through a stack of photos. Pale and creepy as usual. He glances at Billy before looking back down.

“Heather’s in the darkroom.”

Billy automatically gets defensive. He hates when people assume anything about him, no matter how small. “What makes you think I’m here for her, Byers?”

Jonathan shrugs, scanning over the photo in his hand. “Are you an artist now?”

Fuck him.

“Where’s the darkroom?” Billy grunts.

Jonathan gestures across the room to what looks like a black elevator. “Through the door.”

“That's a door?”

“It’s a revolving door." Jonathan explains reluctantly."So the light can’t get in.”

Billy doesn’t like how Byers never makes eye contact with him. Mainly because he can’t tell whether it’s from anxiety or because he doesn’t think Billy’s worth the effort.

He steps into the tall black cylinder. Reminds him of Star Trek or something. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Spin the door.” Jonathan mutters.

“What?”

"Spin it."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Jonathan sighs, gets up from the table, comes towards him looking annoyed. He reaches out and jerks the frame of the door. The walls spin around Billy in a whirl of unseeing black.

Then he’s facing a dark void, walking into an eerie reddish glow. The smell of unfamiliar chemicals fills his nostrils. His eyes adjust and he sees Heather’s back facing him. She’s leaning over a deep metal sink. Wearing really big headphones. Head nodding gently to a beat, walkman clipped to her hip.

Billy comes up behind her.

“Heather.”

She doesn’t hear him, just keeps nodding along to whatever she’s listening to. Billy reaches over and yanks her headphones down to her neck.She gasps loud, spins around in surprise. She sighs in relief when she sees him, hand to her heart.

“Jesus Christ. You scared the shit out of me."

Billy’s lips twitch into a grin for a moment. It’s rare she ever curses. Then he remembers he’s mad.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He fumes. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Her brows pinch together. “What time is it?”

“School ended like forty-five minutes ago. Thought you ditched me.”

Heather's eyes widen, hand slapping over her forehead. “Oh my _god._ I’m sorry. Totally lost track of time.”

“Whatever. Let’s go.”

She hesitates, looks at him hopefully,doe eyes blinking up at him. “Can I just stay a bit longer? I’m almost done developing these photos. It'll only be like five more minutes.”

She knows what she's doing when she looks at him like that. Billy bites at the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, alright. Just don’t take forever. I'm really not in the mood.”

“Thanks.” She smiles briefly, turns back around, placing her headphones over her ears. Then it’s back to her being Ice Queen of The Year. He can feel her put up a wall, getting thicker by the second.

He peers over her shoulder. She’s pushing at a photo immersed in clear fluid with a pair of tongs. It’s a tree or something. It slowly darkens, gets more vivid. Hypnotic as the branches form.

It almost makes him forget what he was going to say to her.

He leans against the sink, pulling her headphones down again.

"We need to fucking talk."

She gives him a hard glance. “About what?”

"You being a bitch."

Heather’s voice goes shrill. "_Excuse me? _"

"You're acting all stuck up and fucking annoying. Like I did something wrong. I didn't do shit and you know it."

Heather doesn’t respond. Doesn’t look at him.

"I was honest with you from the beginning." He continues. "You've got nothing on me."

Heather keeps prodding at the photo. "I'm just confused, okay? I need some time to think about this."

"What the fuck is there to be confused about? I was clear as day with you."

"I can't help what I feel. When I’m into someone I really want to _be _with them, you know?"

"I'm with you right now." He quips. He knows it's a lame line but he really doesn't know what else to say. 

"You know what I mean..." Heather chews at her bottom lip. "Maybe this isn't gonna work out between us."

Billy’s heart drops into his stomach, a needy, gnawing feeling rolling through him.

"_Okay._” Billy drawls. “You really gonna drop me over some stupid label shit?”

“It’s not stupid to me.”

Billy’s instinct is to go for where she’s vulnerable. To where he knows he’s got her under his thumb.

“You seriously never want me to fuck you again? You think you're ever gonna get dick this good from anyone else?”

Heather makes a small scoffing sound. "Of course you'd say something like that."

Billy can't help but push it further. Make her uncomfortable.Put her on the spot. It makes him feel good, if even only for a moment.

He comes behind her, wraps his arms around her waist. Her back flat against his chest, his groin pressed into her ass. Mouth hovering near her exposed neck. She doesn’t resist.

"Face it, sweetheart." He murmurs low in her ear. "You're not gonna survive too long without me now that we’ve fucked. I know what you’re really like now. Horny little thing aren’t you?”

“I’ll live.” She shrugs, Her tone sounds pretty weak to Billy though.

“_Sure._ Probably haven’t stopped thinking about my cock since I put it in you. Would probably let me fuck you like this right now if I felt you up a bit."

"Billy..." Her tone is a warning.

His lips skim her earlobe. "Did I turn you into a slut or were you just playing prude this whole time?”

He can feel Heather go stiff in his arms. Feel her shame. Her revulsion. She's probably wet too.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I like you that way." He grinds up against her and she moans under her breath. He smirks. It’s so perversely gratifying, filling him with adrenaline, with power. 

"I’m not even going to dignify any of that with a response." She finally says, voice stone-cold.

“Why not? Because you know it’s true?”

She turns roughly in his arms to face him, dark eyes flashing anger. “Look, Billy. If having sex with you means you’re just going to be gross and terrible to me all the time, maybe its better not to do it at all.” She pushes at his chest.

Billy snorts, taking a step backwards. "Yeah right. Probably gonna call me up a week from now, begging me to fuck you again."

Heather only gets colder, arms crossed, huddled tight to herself. "I really don't want to talk about this. You’re being an asshole."

"Fine. Whatever. I’m turning you on, but whatev-"

“Stop it.”

They both go quiet, glaring at each other for a moment. Heather faces her work again, shoulders rising to her ears. Scrunched with tension. Billy leans back against the counter behind her. Admires the way her skirt hugs her hips while listing all the ways she's a bitch in his head.

He takes a cigarette from his jacket pocket, fishes for his zippo and lights up right there in the darkroom.

She flashes a look at him over her shoulder. “You’re really not supposed to do that in here, you know.”

Billy breathes a film of smoke towards her. “You can always walk home if you want, princess.”

She gives him a look of disgust before turning to move her photo into another bin of fluid. Billy just smokes and stares at her. Purposefully intimidating. Making sure she can feel his gaze.

After a tense minute she clears her throat. “Um, by the way.” Her voice is lighter, airier. Like she’s trying to pretend everything's okay. "I'm not going to need a ride after school most days now. I've got swim practice."

“And how are you getting home?" Billy takes another sharp pull from his cigarette.

"I'm going to get a ride from another teammate."

Billy gets a visceral bad feeling from that, stomach clenching up.

"Which teammate?"

"Either Carol and her mom..." She pauses, hesitates. “Or Steve.”

_Bitch._

"You're fucking kidding, right?"

"He offered to give me a ride today. He's just trying to be nice."

White hot rage fills Billy's senses. It’s hard to keep his voice calm. "You playing games now, sweetheart? That's cute.”

"I'm _not _playing games! And why does it matter if he gives me a ride?"

"_Jesus, _Heather. You _know _I fucking hate the guy. Pretty obvious why it's messed up."

"So you say we're not serious, don't want to call us anything. You only associate me with sex. But I can't even be friends with another guy? That’s so unfair."

"It'd be different if he wasn't into you. If you didn't go out before. Also, he’s obviously trying to bone you. Bet he regrets pretending to be the nice guy now. Shoulda made a move when he had his chance."

“He’s_ so _not like that. He _is _a nice guy. Not every guy is obsessed with sex like you."

“Sure he’s not.” Billy huffs. “Fine, go jump on his dick. Call me after. I wanna know who the better fuck is.”

“_Billy_.” She hisses, turning to glower at him, voice stern. Her tongs clang against the sink. “I don't even _feel _anything for him, I swear to god. Like there’s a _reason _we didn’t do anything. Me and him...we don’t- he doesn’t make me feel...it’s not the same as you and-” She flounders,exasperated, like she doesn’t want to admit that she’s hornier for him than Steve. “We’re just friends now.” She shifts around to clip her wet photo up to dry.

Billy glows with satisfaction at Heather admitting Steve doesn't turn her on as much as he does. But he can’t help but be mean anyways. He’s spiralling now, riding a heady wave of malice. It feels too good to stop. He only wants to get nastier.

"Yeah whatever. Guess while you’re getting a _ride _with Steve, I'll go hang out with Teresa. She’s fun."

Heather goes very still. "Who's Teresa?"

"Some chick I fucked the night I picked you up at the cat shelter."

Heather whips her head around to him. The atmosphere gets thicker. With spite. With hurt. “_What? _"

"It’s not like we were anything then. You called me in the middle of a date. I fucked her and then picked you up." Billy taps cigarette ash out on the floor. "Now _she's _a real slut. Does anything I want. Great rack too."

Heather gives him a look like he just slapped her. "You're unbelievable."

"Like I said. You and Iweren't together. I was just a _nice guy _going outta my way to pick you up. Then you tried to jump me at the pool. I didn't do anything wrong." 

"We're not even together _now._" Heather snaps, voice shaky. "I don't get how you can act so jealous. And fine, sleep with Teresa then. I don't care."

She faces away from him again, back still rigid. She seems like she's gonna cry again. Billy can't stand how fucking sensitive she is. He wants a fight. Not to run her over. The impact of his words start to hit him, a writhing path of guilt crawling into his belly.

“I’m not jealous.” He mumbles.

She doesn't respond. Just stares at the sink some more.

"Heather."

She still doesn't say anything.

"What, so you're ignoring me now?"

Billy shifts his weight to his other leg. Sucks at his cigarette. He can’t believe what he’s about to say.

"Look, I'm sorry for being a dick, alright. I just don't want you to fuck another guy."

She turns to look at him. Her eyes are brimming. God, does she have to cry at every little thing? Makes him feel like a douchebag.

“I don’t want you to have sex with another girl.” Heather says softly, child-like.

Billy takes a deep breath. He opens his mouth to say something but then the door swivels open. Fucking Jonathan.

“Hey Heather, I found that extra photo paper you were looking for. You want me to leave it on one of the tables? I’m gonna head out.”

Heather nods, wipes at her eyes with one hand. “Sure. Thank you.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Billy exhales a cloud of smoke as Jonathan steps back inside the cylinder.

“You're not supposed to smoke in here.” Jonathan comments, doesn't bother hiding his annoyance.

“Bite me.” Billy sneers, inhaling another deep drag.

Jonathan disappears through the spinning door. Billy turns to Heather, gets close to her, his hip against the sink. His voice sounds more needy than he wants it to be.Tends to happen a lot around her he's noticing. 

"Honestly, I don't even _want _to fuck another girl. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." He can't believe he's apologizing. Twice.

“Not even the girl that does anything you want?” She sniffs. "Teresa or whoever she is?"

“No. It’s better with you. Way better.” Billy mutters around his cigarette.“And it’s not _just _the sex...it’s like…” 

“Like what?”

Billy feels like he's losing control. Maybe it's the womb-like darkness in here. Makes him go belly-up, soft and weak.

But if it's so weak, why is it so hard to do?

He drops his cigarette butt, crushes it under his heel. Takes a gulp of air.

“You're really the only person I ever want to hang out with. I like you more than anyone else in this stupid town.” He admits, agitated.

Heather gives a soft smile. “You do? More than Tommy?"

Billy's eyebrow lifts."Of course more than fucking _Tommy_. Tommy's a fucking asshole."

"I like you more than anyone else in Hawkins too.“ 

"Yeah, I just...fuck.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, mad at himself for being the one to have to make amends. He can’t even look at her in the eye, his voice coming out clipped and low. “If I don’t fuck another chick, will you not fuck anyone either?”

“Like...be exclusive?”

“Yeah, I guess. If thats what you wanna call it. I dunno what the hell anything means.”

“I’d like that.” She murmurs. "I was never gonna sleep with anyone else anyways."

“Good. I don't wanna have to think about that shit. Back in California everyone just fucks whoever." At least the people he had sex with did. Sometimes it was a blow to his ego, made him bitch about it, but overall he never stayed long enough for it to really hurt.

Heather touches his arm, soothing. "I _really _wasn’t going to do anything with Steve. I swear. He just offered me a ride and I thought it would be convenient for everyone because he's on the team and lives like a couple of blocks from me."

Even if she's truthful, Billy's not totally convinced that she's _completely _innocent. Seems a little suspicious that she would bring Steve up like that when she's mad at him. But he'll take whatever underhanded shit she's throwing if it means he'll get to stay close to her.

“Even if it’s convenient, it’s fucking bogus.” Billy grumbles, draping an arm around her. "I’ll pick you up after your practice. I don’t care.”

Heather leans into him.“Are you sure? I don't want to bother you."

"I don't mind waiting around to pick you up."

"You don't?"

"No." He sort of does but he'd rather be bored than have her ride with someone else.

"What're you gonna do? It'll be like an hour or so wait."

"I dunno. Drop Max off, maybe come back to watch you. Maybe I’ll even catch up on homework at the library or something."

“Alright…” Heather grins. He can tell she doubts he’ll do homework. "You wanna watch me swim?"

"Like I'd miss the chance to see you kicking everyone's ass half-naked. Also I want every idiot with a dick on that team to know I'm fucking you."

Heather laughs. "You’re really possessive."

"Never was the sharing type."

She beams wide, leans in and kisses him on the cheek.

“What are you smiling about?” Billy smirks back at her. 

“Nothing.” Heather kisses him gently on the mouth, pulling away before he can respond.

“Tease.” Billy shifts and cups her face in both hands. Kisses her firm, harder. Heat flickers between them, an insistent wave. He breaks the kiss to look into her eyes. She wants him so bad. It gets him harder than hell. "You also turn me on more than anyone in this town."

"Same." She whispers before taking his lips hungrily with her own. The spark between them bursts into flames. Their kisses get more desperate, breathing hard. Arousal burning through him like wildfire. He runs his hand down her side, fingers grazing under the hem of her skirt, skimming the fabric of her tights.

"Maybe it's just the lighting in here but I could fuck you right now. Fucking want you." He mumbles before his lips are on hers again. 

Heather's kissing him back hard. She always does. She's always horny for him. Her arms twine behind his neck. She walks him back a few feet until his tailbone digs into the edge of the counter.Her hand palms over over his bulge and he can't help but laugh huskily against her mouth.

"If you weren't so pretty I'd call you a hypocrite."

"Shut up." 

Billy drags his fingers under her skirt, grabbing her ass "Why are you wearing this skimpy shit in the fucking winter? You trying to get me to warm you up?"

"Whatever works." 

"Oh its working, sweetheart." He cups her crotch through her tights. "Though I don't know if you need me. Seem pretty warm already." He rubs her firmly, breathing heavy against her ear. "Real wet too."

"I need you." She whispers. “So much.”

Billy turns her around so that now her spine is against the ledge. He grips her ass with both hands and lifts her up onto the counter. Her head smacks hard into the cupboard behind her. "_Ow_."

"_Shit._" Billy cups the back of her head. "You okay?"

She laughs breathlessly, dazed. "I'm fine." She keeps kissing him. Billy reaches underneath her skirt, jerks down her tights and panties in one go til they dangle around her knees. He pulls her hips to him, spreads her legs and reaches down to feel her.

"Fuck, you’re wet." He groans. "Love how fucking hot you get for me." He slides two fingers deep into her, fingering her harder than he normally would. He's just so worked up right now. He wants to rip off all his clothes just to cool down. He rubs over her clit. Works it with a firm touch. It’s not long until she comes against his hand, hips writhing, moaning into his mouth. It’s so damn satisfying for him. Fills him with awe that he can have that effect on her, show her that much pleasure. He’s about to give her another round but she stills his hand with her own.

"Billy.” She pleads. "Want you inside me."

He didn’t think he could get any harder but she really has a way with words.

"I don't have a condom on me." Billy whispers huskily, pressing kisses on her neck. "Come back to my car. I'll fuck you so good, baby."

Heather nods, tongue sliding past his lips to twine with his. He’s overwhelmed with sensation. With passion. She gets under his skin in a way he never believed was possible.Something he thought could only be confined behind a screen or in the lyrics of a song. Never this real. This powerful. This electric. 

Billy helps her off the counter. She pulls up her tights and underwear. Quickly heads over to the sink and takes her supplies under one arm. She grabs his hand and guides him into the dark revolving door.

* * *

Back in the Camaro, the parking lot around them is almost empty, sun already starting to set in a blood orange sky. Billy's tempted to fuck her right here but he knows it's risky. There's still a few teacher's cars around. Truthfully, he doesn’t really give a fuck if someone sees them but he knows she will.

He drives to a spot not far from the school, an abandoned lot hidden by a swathe of cedar trees. Heather slides between the seats to get into the back. Billy pockets a condom from the glove compartment, crawling after her. He pulls off her boots, she helps him pull down her tights. He blankets himself over her curves, sinks into her. She feels so damn good under him.

"I'm finally doing it." She mutters against his neck.

"Doing what?" He plants a kiss on her plush mouth.

"Having sex with Billy Hargrove in the back of his Camaro."

"Okay?” Billy feigns ignorance. 

"It's kind of like an urban legend around here, isn't it?'

Billy chuckles, enjoying the flattery. He knows people here talk about him, spread rumours about his prowess. He likes the mystique, purposefully maintains the image. It’s too easy to do in a town like Hawkins.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, babe, but sure. "

"You totally do.” She giggles, writhing under him. She can’t keep still. “This is like a rite of passage for teenage girls."

Billy rolls his eyes though he's definitely letting his ego lap it up. "Just be quiet and let me fuck you, alright? I'm too hard to talk." He pushes his bulge against her.

He zips open his jeans and rips open the condom wrapper, rolling it down his hard shaft with a desperation he can barely tamp down. He runs the head of his cock over her slit.

"This sweet little pussy is always gonna be ready for me, isn't it?" He pushes into her less soft than the last time. He's too horny to tease her, fills her up in one smooth motion. She moans against his neck as he ruts into her, hips moving sharp and strong.

Heather's hands slide under his shirt, fingernails digging into his skin as her legs wrap tight around his waist. He hits a good angle that forces an uncontrollable groan from her.

“Your boyfriend back home ever fuck you this good?” He mutters, making sure to thrust against that sweet spot inside her that makes most chicks whine. Sometimes even come if he's real lucky.

“No.” She breathes, hand coming up to grip his hair. “Did _Teresa_ ever feel this good?”

Billy cracks up, thrusts going off-tempo for a brief moment. He didn’t think he had it in her to say that kind of shit.

“No, baby. Nobody feels as good as you.” He grunts as he drives into her even harder.

Her moans are guttural, natural, in time with every thrust of his hips. Every sound she makes just drives him more wild. Until he's no longer trying to control himself, just blatantly fucking her into the seat. A blur of friction and pleasure. Windows fogging.

“I’m gonna come soon.” He grits out. He tries to get a hand between them to touch her, but it’s difficult to keep the pace.

She takes his hand off her. “It’s okay. Just fuck me.”

He groans, shifts both his hands under her hips, gripping her ass as he pounds her. Another minute of thrusting and he comes hard, a deep gruff sound emerging from his throat. He collapses on top of her. "_Fuck._.."

She kisses him with so much feeling. He goes with it. He's so helpless in her arms. She doesn't seem to mind, just holds him tight, whispering about how good he makes her feel, how good he is, how she didn’t know it could feel this way. Billy's floating, her words like honey in his ear. He feels like he’s dead but in the best possible way.

After a while he lifts himself off her, reaches between her legs. "You wanna come again?"

Heather shakes her head, takes his hand to her cheek and kisses it. "It’s okay. I need to go home. My parents are probably getting suspicious."

Billy had almost forgotten that he's fucking Ms.Rich. It's a weird juxtaposition. He pulls out of her, discards the condom in the plastic bag he keeps under his seat.

Heather pulls her clothes on and climbs back into her spot. Billy pushes his seat forward and climbs out of the Camaro. Stands outside for a bit to let the blood rush back into his legs. When they both finally settle into their seats she’s smiling at him. The energy between them is real calm now. Satisfied. No one asks any intense questions as he pulls out onto the road, palm reaching out to hold her knee.

Then Billy remembers the tickets.

"Come see Slayer with me?" He blurts out.

"What?"

"I got two tickets to a Slayer concert."

“Oh." Heather says slowly. She takes his hand in hers like she wants to let him down gentle. "Um. I don't think that's really my thing.Thank you though."

Billy snorts in annoyance."You're seriously going to say that after I took you to the stupid dance and ate fucking duck liver with your parents?"

Heather laughs. "You didn't even eat the foie gras."

Shit. Did everyone notice that?

“Whatever. You owe me.”

“Isn’t Tommy a better person to bring to a show like that?”

Billy has a horrible flashback to finding Tommy wasted in Teresa's bathroom.

“_No_. Definitely not. He’s a fucking dickhead.” Billy grumbles. He glances back at Heather, eyes pleading. "_Come on_. It’ll be fun.”

She raises her brow when he says _fun._ "Honestly, I'm kinda scared to go."

"Scared? What’s there to be scared of?."

"It's _Slayer_! The music is gonna be all about Satan. The crowd is going to be...intense. And it's probably going to be all guys. Guys that get drunk and punch people.”

"Yeah, but you'll be with _me_. And nobody fucks with me."

"Something tells me you've gotten in your fair share of brawls at concerts."

She doesn’t know the half of it. If she knew about all the fighting and fucking in the dark underground shows on the Sunset Strip, she’d never go with him.

"That's only because I never went to one with _you_." He purrs.

She leans back against the seat, considering for a moment.

"Okay.” She sighs. “Fine. I'll go."

"Fuck yeah.” Billy grins, squeezing her hand. “We're gonna have a blast."

"I hope so." She says doubtfully.

"Lighten up, babe." Billy reaches for his pack of Marlboros on the dashboard. “Slayer _rules._"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ buckle up, heather.](https://youtu.be/bgEPFt4kwos)


	15. it's got a hold on me now.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Heather go to Family Video.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's all fluff pretty much.
> 
> There are spoilers for the 1981 animation, Heavy Metal, in this chapter.

Billy parks in front of Family Video on a Saturday night in late January, Heather in the passenger seat. He rushes through the last of his Marlboro, blowing smoke out his window cracked open a sliver. It’s too damn cold to roll it down any more than that.

"I'm excited. I haven't rented a movie since I moved here." Heather smiles. She runs her hand down his arm with an affectionate touch. “I wonder what the selection’s like.”

"Lets see if we can get past the front door first." He breathes one last smokey exhale before he tosses his cigarette, a trace of anxiety in him.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothin'." Billy says too quickly, getting out of the Camaro, leaving Heather confused for a moment before she follows after him.

The instant they walk through the door, Billy sees that gawky asshole, Keith, behind the counter. Staring slack-jawed at the TV on his desk, hand deep in a bag of chips._ Fuck_, he was hoping someone else would be working tonight. Keith spots him a second later, face forming into a death glare. He points a long finger in Billy’s direction.

“You take one more step, buddy, and I’ll call the cops. No _thieves_ at Family Video.”

Heather looks at Billy with her jaw dropped, lowers her voice in a shrill whisper. “You _stole _from here?”

Clearly she still has a lot to learn about him.

Billy ignores her question, facing towards Keith, eyes narrowed. “Hey, I brought it back, didn’t I?”

“I don’t _care_. You didn’t pay. Not to mention, the Adult section is for _adults_, Hargrove. No porn until you’re eighteen, alright?”

Billy peeks at Heather, almost wincing. She seems stunned at first before breaking into a smirk. Like its really not that farfetched. She raises her eyebrows at him, and then turns to Keith.

"It would _really_ mean a lot if you let us in." Heather says, words gentle and girlish. "I've never been here before and I've heard such good things. _Especially_ about the customer service."

Keith is staring at Heather a bit too intensely, open mouthed. Billy doesn’t like it. Makes his insides curl.

"My boss might fire me if he found out I let him in."

"Please?" Heather pleads, hands clasped together. "We'll be really quick. I won't let him steal anything." Billy shoots her an irritated glance.

“Alright.” Keith sighs after not much consideration. “I’ll let you guys in. But no funny business, okay?"

Heather gives Keith a little smile before she starts roaming down one of the aisles. Billy scowls at him instead, then wanders into the action movie section.

When he finds Heather a few minutes later, they examine each other’s selections.

“_Flashdance?_” Billy gives Heather a look of deep skepticism. He takes the tape from her hand, flipping it over to look at the back cover.

“_Conan the Barbarian_?” Heather grimaces with equal doubt.

“And Heavy Metal.” Billy shows her his second pick, a mostly naked woman riding an ugly winged beast on the front cover.

"Isn't that some sort of pervy cartoon?"

He offers her a lewd grin. "It's one of my favorites."

“Are we even going to be able to watch all of these in one night?”

“Your parents aren’t home til Monday, right? We can stay up late.”

“Don’t you have a curfew?”

“My dad’s too wasted on the weekends to notice.” Billy says lightly.

Heather giggles at him for a moment before realizing he’s dead serious, glancing away to look at the floor.

Billy regrets saying that.He shouldn’t be honest about Neil. Better to say nothing or flat-out lie. Just like how he lied to her about the new bruise on his cheekbone being from a scuffle in gym class. She doesn’t need to know that Neil is the kind of dad that punches you when you steal his cigarettes. _Nobody_ needs to know that.

When they set their tapes on Keith’s counter, he scans over the titles and gives them both an agitated huff.

"Are you guys stupid or something? All of these are rated R."

“I’ll be eighteen next month.” Heather's voice is bright and sweet as molasses now, doe eyes gazing straight into Keith’s beady ones. Billy's brows pinch together when he sees the sensual look on her face that she usually saves for him.

Keith blushes. He’s clearly not used to this kind of attention. He drums his fingers on the counter, trying to maintain composure.“It’s against company policy.”

Heather leans in closer, forearms on the desk, voice getting even softer. Billy’s nostrils flare when she touches Keith’s hand. “_Please_? I'm really mature for my age."

Keith goes a deep shade of red, quickly glancing away. He looks at Billy instead. “I want an extra ten bucks then.”

Billy snorts, glowering. “Fuck that shi-.”

Heather elbows him in the ribs, never taking her eyes off Keith, who’s now sweating. “I’ll pay the extra ten.”

They walk out the door with three R-rated videos in hand.

“What the hell was _that_?” Billy grunts as they approach the Camaro.

"I think it was flirting.” Heather opens the passenger door, giddy as a child. Like she can't believe she actually got away with it. 

“Yeah, no shit. And with _Keith _of all people?”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, a little too well.”

“I’ve learned from the best." She looks at him pointedly. "Also, if Keith was a girl, you would have done the exact same thing.”

“True.” Billy sucks at his teeth as he opens his door, still not pleased. “You better wash that hand before you touch me with it though.”

* * *

Heather’s movie den is gigantic of course, with a _slightly_ friendlier atmosphere than the rest of her home. She's also got the biggest TV that Billy’s ever laid eyes on. He stands in front of it, examining the huge screen, not a speck of dust on the surface.

“There’s really no point ever going to a theater if you have one of these in your house, I’m guessing.” He takes a step over to the VHS collection lining a large shelf. They’re actually in alphabetical order. It’s scary.

“Haven’t been to one since I got to Hawkins.” Heather admits.

“The movie theatre still has certain perks.” He gives her a knowing look.“Though I guess now that your parents are gone we're gonna recreate that experience no problem.”

Heather rolls her eyes with a smile. “I _do_ actually want to watch these movies, you know. Well. Except yours.”

“We’ll watch, I just can’t guarantee I’ll remember anything.” Billy pulls Heather to him, wraps his arms around her waist. “I can’t believe you’re gonna make me sit through a stupid chick flick though.”

“You know it has naked girls dancing in it, right? It’s rated R for a reason.”

“I guess that’s cool, but who gives a fuck when I can just look at your tits anytime I want to tonight.”

“Aww. That’s..sweet?”

“It’s the actual plot that’s gonna bore me to tears.”

“Don’t worry. From the reviews, I’ve gathered there isn’t one.” Heather squeezes him tighter to her. “Also, you’re making me watch _two_ stupid boy movies, _and_ I paid an extra ten bucks for them, so I think we’re more than even.”

“It’ll take a lot more than that to make up for the dinner.”

“Oh my god, you’re _still_ mad about that?”

“I have nightmares about it regularly.” Billy says with a wry smirk. “I might need therapy to stop the flashbacks.”

“You poor thing.” Heather grins, kissing him softly on his bottom lip.

He’s still holding her when she takes Flashdance out of the case and inserts it in the VCR. They flop backwards on the couch as Heather presses play on the remote. Billy ignores how the couch has no give as he buries his mouth in the crook of her neck, his fingers dipping under her cashmere sweater. She grasps his chin and turns his face towards the screen.

“Focus.”

Billy’s hand keeps moving over her silky flesh, travelling upwards to squeeze a soft breast. He takes a rough inhale through his teeth, his skin burning up. “Why do you never wear a bra when I come over to your place? That can’t be an accident.”

She takes his hand and places it in his lap. “Come on, we haven’t even watched the first five minutes yet.”

Billy groans in frustration, sinking into the couch as much as it will allow. He shifts uncomfortably. It’s like The Holloways don’t ever want to actually relax. “I’m so fucking horny though.”

“Don’t be a baby.” She chides, eyes fixed on the television.

The main actress appears on screen; curly haired, sultry and sloe-eyed. Billy raises a brow.

“Jesus, this chick looks just like you.”

“Jennifer Beals? Really?”

“Yeah, it’s freaking me out. Riding her bike and everything too."

“I don’t like her hair.” Heather frowns, playing with her long locks.

“You’re way prettier.” Billy purrs, shifting closer, settling his arm behind her head.

“I’m not gonna let you touch my boobs again until the movie is done, but nice try.”

"If you say so.” Billy chuckles, his other hand gliding up her stocking-covered thigh.

* * *

By the time Heather's doppelganger is shaking her toned ass to "Maniac" in legwarmers, Billy’s already gotten a blowjob and made Heather come around his fingers. They laze into each other’s bodies in a fuzzy afterglow.

“I like this movie.” Billy mumbles into Heather’s hair, taking in the scent of her floral shampoo. She definitely uses something expensive. He’s not complaining.

“What do you like about it?”

“Now I know what you’d look like as a stripper.”

“Oh my god, Billy.”

“She's kind of a shitty stripper though. Doesn't even get naked." He goads. "But that thing with the chair and the water drenching her was fucking hot. Dancing around all wet.”

“Yes, she’s very creative.” Heather says flatly, snuggling deeper into him.

“Now the question is if you’d ever dance for me like that.”

Heather scoffs into the fabric of his shirt. “Nope.”

“I mean, you _did_ put your hands down my pants five minutes after saying we couldn’t do anything. I figure you’ll give me a dance by the end of the night at this rate.”

“I’m more likely to weld than dance like that.”

“That’s actually the dumbest part of this movie. A girl-welder that _isn’t_ a dyke? Gimme a break.”

Heather pokes his ribs. “There are straight girl-welders!”

“Name one.”

“Whatever. I know they’re out there. Also, it’s not like any of your movies are gonna be realistic either.”

“Yeah, but at least there’s explosions and shit.”

* * *

The end credits for Flashdance roll. Billy’s sprawled across the upholstery, head in Heather’s lap, facing the screen. Her hand strokes absently through his hair.

“I changed my mind.” Billy yawns. “That movie was fucking stupid.”

“What, why?”

He gestures towards the television.“They obviously used a body double for her.”

“You could tell?”

“I was looking _very _carefully” He grins. “Pretty sure that was a fucking dude in one of the shots at the end. That chick couldn’t _actually _dance, she just looked cute.”

“Who cares as long as the final result looks good?” Heather shrugs.

“Kinda ruined it for me. Also, why the fuck was it rated R? Nobody boned. I only saw tits in like one scene, and it wasn’t even the main chick. Real waste of time if you ask me.”

Heather lightly smacks his shoulder. “Well, I liked it. The choreography was really good and kind of unique. The music wasn't bad either.”

“Wait til you hear the music in the next movie we watch.”

“Let me guess, it’s going to be..._heavy metal_?”

“You bet your ass it is.”

* * *

They’re almost half way through Heavy Metal now. A naked cartoon blonde with a massive rack is about to be sacrificed to the ancient god, Ulatec. Heather's laying upside down on the couch. Head dangling over the edge of the cushions, legs up next to Billy's face.

"Why the hell are you sitting like that?" Billy twines an arm around her thighs, eyeing how her sweater has slid up to expose her cute little navel. 

"I'm trying to see if this movie is less god-awful from this angle."

"Yeah right, this movie is a fucking masterpiece." Billy digs his fingers into the flesh of her stomach. Tickling her with a devilish leer.

Heather makes a small whining sound, clutching at his hand to stop him."It's like a thirteen year old boy's wet dream! It's so gross."

"All the tits and monsters are really well-drawn though." Billy laughs huskily, smoothing his palm over her belly, feeling himself get hard again.

"It's super perverted. All the girls are like, helpless idiots.Their sole purpose is to show off their giant boobs. It's totally sexist."

"Whatever, visually and musically it's fucking cool. And it's hilarious. There's nothing else like it."

"Good."

"Plus we haven't even gotten to the part where the warrior chick fights. She's not helpless. She kicks _ass_. It's the best part of the whole movie."

"Is she naked?"

"Not for all of it."

"You've totally jerked off to this movie, haven't you?"

"Surprisingly no, but I'm getting pretty horny again." His fingers skim lower,tucking under the the edge of her jean skirt until he can feel the lace lining of her panties. She had went to her room inbetween movies and changed into a fresh pair, not wanting to sit in her own wetness. Billy bets she’s already soaked through these ones too.

"I refuse to do anything to this movie." Heather squirms. "I won't let them win."

"Jeez, fine." He pulls his hand away.

"Maybe after though?" Heather grabs his hand back to her belly.

"Okay. I'll try not to jump you until then."

* * *

Forty minutes and two orgasms later, Heather's upright, head nestled into Billy's chest. Tights and panties on the floor. The movie's over, credits rolling up the screen.

"I can't believe the only interesting girl in this dies at the end." Heather sighs.

"Yeah, but it was a sacrifice. She died to save everybody from evil. She's badass."

"Stupid movie." Heather grumbles.

"Gotta admit, it's a much better experience when stoned out of my mind." Billy smirks. "Guess we both have bad taste."

"Please don't make me watch Conan the Barbarian if it's anything like what we just watched."

"I don't want to watch another movie."

“What do you want do?”

“I dunno, I'm kinda tired. Wanna go to bed?" For once this isn't a ploy to fuck. He's actually pretty exhausted, eyes bleary. "I've never laid down in your bed before."

“Okay.’ Heather lifts herself off Billy with a dreamy stretch. "I'm sleepy too."

“I'm _really_ hoping your bed is softer than this couch.”

“It is.” Heather smiles. “I don’t know why my parents always buy such hard furniture.”

“After meeting them, I’m not surprised.”

Heather stiffens up a little, voice edgy. “They’re not _that_ bad, you know. My dad can be a really nice guy.”

“Huh, can’t say the same for mine.”

Heather doesn’t reply to that, gives him a concerned look. Billy regrets saying yet another thing about Neil. For some reason it just keeps slipping out. 

When they’re cuddled together in Heather’s king-sized, four-poster bed, Billy’s relieved at how luxurious her sheets are, how his body sinks perfectly into her mattress. He could fall asleep any minute.

“Where’s Rosita?” Billy asks with his eyes closed, forearm draped over his brow. Heather's hand is on his bare chest. He's only in his boxers now. Heather's bundled up in her white Egyptian cotton pajamas.

“She went with my parents to daddy’s business thing back in Connecticut. They can’t survive without her.”

“So...you’ve been making dinner by yourself?”

“I can cook, you know. I make stuff with Rosita a lot.”

“What _can’t_ you do?”

“Weld.”

Billy snorts, pulling her tighter to him. He’s so serene right now. He's never like this alone in his own bed. She’s so warm and cozy. Her pajamas are freakishly soft. He’s melting into her, almost drifting off before he remembers, body lighting up in excitement.

“Hey.” He nudges her arm.

“What?”

“We’re gonna go see fucking _Slayer, _baby_._” He makes the devil-horn sign, eyes still closed.

Heather laughs, grabbing his hand and placing it flat against her cheek. “Yeah, I’m _terrified_.”

Billy strokes his thumb against her skin, runs his fingers through her hair. “It'll be fine. We just won’t go where all the flailing is.”

“_Great._”

Billy forces his eyes open, taking in Heather's heart-shaped face. God, she looks like a fucking angel.

“Come on, what kind of attitude is that? You can handle it. You’re a tough chick, riding your bike in the snow like a psycho. Breaking into swimming pools. Fucking beating me in a race.” Billy smirks, moving his hand down to caress her thigh. “Actually, let’s just pretend that last part never happened.”

“I didn't break in. I have a key." She reminds him. "Also, I bet that if you trained as hard as I do, you’d have demolished me. I beat you by like a second.”

“Well, _obviously_. But I should have beaten you anyways because you’re a fucking _girl_.”

Heather scoffs. “What happened to me being a tough chick?”

“Doesn’t matter how tough you are, I’ve always got to be the toughest.”

“Oh _Billy._ You’re _so _tough.” Heather coos, voice teasing. “So manly and strong._ Save me_, Billy. Rescue me from being sacrificed to Ulatec!” She clutches at him as she breaks into a round of laughter. “Is that what you want to hear?”

Billy rolls his eyes.“Whatever, you’re probably going to be holding onto me like a baby at the concert.”

“So much for the pep talk.” Heather pouts. A moment of quiet lulls over them before Billy segways to a new topic.

“I sorta miss seeing you in class, you know.” He says with drowsy honesty. “School is so goddamn boring now. I didn’t even think it could _get _more boring.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird.” She agrees. “Though I really like my classes this semester. Especially photography.”

“Well, to be fair, my grades have been super high since the semester started.”

“Really? That’s good.”

“Yeah, turns out you were a major distraction.”

“Maybe it’s better this way.”

“Probably.”

Billy drums his fingers on her hip, another random topic coming to his mind. He's just trying to keep himself awake at this point.

“Your parents aren’t very smart."

“_Billy._”

“They shouldn’t have left you alone for the weekend. Don’t they know you're just going to be bouncing on my cock the entire time? They trust you way too much.” He gives a lazy smile, eyes half-lidded, waiting for her to hit his arm.

Heather gives a mock gasp instead. “I’m very trustworthy!”

“No, you’re not.” 

“Well, you didn't actually fuck me tonight technically. Doesn't count.”

“Mmm say that one part again.” 

“What part?”

“You know what part." He mumbles, feeling delirious. Heather's face goes in and out of focus as his eyelids strain to keep open.

“Fuck me?”

“Can’t. Too tired.” Billy chuckles sleepily, eyes glued shut again. “Your bed is like a goddamn marshmallow. What the _fuck_.” He snuggles deeper into the covers, into her arms.

“It’s okay.” Heather whispers. “Just get some sleep.”

"I think there's something wrong with me." He mutters, each word getting fainter than the last. "I’ve never turned down sex with a pretty girl before. I mean, I kinda have a chub but-"

“Shhhh.” Gentle fingers press to Billy’s mouth. “Go to sleep.”

He obeys. Gives one last yawn, feeling Heather's lips brush against his cheek, achingly soft against his fresh bruise. He lets himself drift off into a heavy, dreamless slumber. True rest.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in a very, very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my alternate universe, Family Video is a chaotic place that has a soft porn section.
> 
> [<3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IGs28F3fAX4)


	16. you're lost little girl.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy and Heather go to the Slayer concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is my longest, most chaotic one yet. Enjoy!?
> 
> [ a preview of what heather is going to have to listen to.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTO1s_ARrBk)

Carol’s helping Heather get to the Slayer concert, and she _demands _to be paid. Especially considering she knows a guy who knows a guy who just made Heather’s fake ID. Heather coughs up a hundred bucks for it. Billy approves; considers it a sign of growing up, making it in the real world. Fuck, any teenager worth their salt has a fake ID. How the hell would you have any fun otherwise?

Billy’s had a good fake since he was fifteen, and he’s always looked older as it is. A lot of the time he doesn’t even get carded. Heather’s so babyfaced he’s not sure if it’s gonna work or not. Maybe it’s going to be too obvious. Maybe they’ll stand out like a sore thumb. She’s a real bad liar too. He’s gonna try not to think about it too much until they get there. It’s the concert of a lifetime. He can’t miss this.

Heather’s also going to a “sleepover” at Carol’s house the night of the concert. A cover up. Carol’s mom is even picking Heather up. Little does she know it’s so Mr.Holloway won’t ask any questions, won't kick Billy's ass. It’s a good plan. Carol’s doing it all behind Tommy’s back, who’s already pissed that Billy’s seeing Slayer with Heather instead of him. Tommy says he can’t afford his own ticket, but Billy knows he just doesn’t want to play third wheel. Carol said she’d rather poke her own eye out than go, and Tommy’s the type who just can’t stand to be alone. He’s such a little bitch.

And boy, is Billy grateful for that fact. Seeing Tommy’s stupid face at the concert would just ruin the whole damn thing. He hasn’t really been talking much to Tommy lately anyways, ditches him constantly. Honestly, it’s because Billy can’t seem to stay away from Heather.

If he’s being real about it, he probably hangs around her _way_ too much. It’s getting noticeable. Tommy’s probably going to say something soon. Say he’s ditching him for a girl, that he’s pussy-whipped. But for once Billy doesn’t really give a fuck if he falls off the social ladder. Everything about his “friendship” with Tommy was just a ruse to get wasted or screw random chicks at parties. To not have to be the kid who sits alone. To not be a loser.

He should probably pull back a little. Maybe things are getting too hot and heavy, moving too fast. Maybe he’s acting too much like a boyfriend or something. Like a pussy. It’s her fault. She made him be all _exclusive_ or whatever.

But if he stops now it’ll be a real drag.

Billy decides he’ll keep hanging out with her for a few more months at least. Y’know, until summer hits and all the bikini babes come out of the woodwork. He’ll probably have his fill of her by then. Then he can get the fuck out of this hellhole. Book it to California as soon as he gets the funds. Pass the “Leaving Hawkins: Come Again Soon” sign, middle finger in the air. _See ya, fuckers._

Though, whenever he imagines that scenario, Heather’s always in the passenger's seat. Taking pictures and smiling at him, wind in her hair.

_Goddammit._

* * *

It’s Saturday evening in early February when Billy stops in front of Carol’s house to pick Heather up. She runs up to the car, hair wild and free behind her. It’s grown a bit since he first started driving her around, comes down to her breasts in thick waves. She’s wearing a black leather jacket, too big for her but cute nonetheless. Tight blue jeans and that same red lace top from the party. The party where he first realized he had blue balls for her.

“Holy_ shit_.” Billy says as she climbs in next to him. She’s grinning real wide, like she knows exactly what effect this would have on him. “You some kinda biker chick now? You in the Hell’s Angels or something?”

“Yes.” Heather quips.

“Why the fuck haven't I seen you in that jacket before?”

“I found it in my dad’s closet.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. This is from before I was born.” Heather reveals, opening her jacket to show off the soft wool lining. “Turns out he used to be cool.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gonna make me like the asshole.”

“_Billy.”_ Heather smacks him in the arm. “Don’t joke about my Dad that way.”

He’s not joking. Billy hates the guy. The man’s only redeeming quality is that he helped create Heather. If it weren’t for that, Billy would egg his house.

“Sorry.” He mutters, Marlboro hanging from the corner of his mouth. “He has a nice car, I guess.”

Heather grins. “Funny enough, that’s the exact same thing he says about you.”

* * *

The venue in Indianapolis is nearly two hours away. 

It's a nice drive, thrash metal blasting the entire way there. Heather is a good co-pilot. Helps pay for gas. Whether they talk or not, doesn't matter. It just feels good to be near her. Also, it turns out she can read a map. Billy has to pull over half way there to look at one with her because he took a wrong turn. Twice. It’s probably because he never uses a fucking map.

When they finally arrive at the seedy, dark concert hall, they get in no problem. Maybe it’s all the leather. Maybe it’s the bouncer that barely looked. Kinda helps that a fight broke out in the lineup as soon as they handed their ID’s over. Sometimes you just get lucky.

As they walk through the entrance, the atmosphere feels so energetic Billy swears he feels a static-charge. Hormone-fuelled. Impatient. Violent. He can taste it. Billy’s adrenaline is spiking, blood pumping. And it hasn’t even started yet.

Heather’s real close to him. Tentative. Doesn’t say anything but Billy’s sure this isn’t her crowd. Hell, she’s probably never seen so much leather at once in her life.

They settle somewhere near the back. Everywhere else is packed like sardines, mostly all long-haired dudes in biker jackets and jean vests. A thick fog is looming on the stage. A girl somewhere is screaming. Billy leans down to Heather’s ear. It’s already too loud to talk normally, the white noise of the crowd dominating everything.

“You want a beer?”

Heather nods. “I think I’m gonna need one.”

He smooths his palm down her back. “Loosen up, babe. You’re gonna be alright.”

She takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

“Be right back.”

Billy retrieves two beers from the bar, catching the eyes of couple of metal girls in shiny leather. Painted faces and cleavage for days. Hair teased to the ceiling. Only months ago, he would have fucked one of these girls against a wall. No doubt about it. Now it all feels like another life. Something so close yet so far away.

A faint blur of drunken memories swims in his minds eye. The brawls. The sex. The chaos. It’s weird how none of that is going to happen tonight. All because of some chick. The only chick he’s ever taken to a metal show. It’s all because of Heather.

Why the fuck did he bring her here again?

No. This is good. She’ll be fine. Everything is going to be fine. This is what he wanted, right?

When he returns, Heather’s talking to one of those girls that he’s _not_ going to fuck. Smiling at some red-skirted blonde with a nose ring.

Well, that’s nice. She’s making friends.

He comes up beside Heather and hands her the beer. The blonde eye-fucks him right away, runs her thirsty gaze over him, mouth smug and mean. Billy doesn’t like her. She gives him a real bad vibe. Reminds him of a pyromaniac bitch he used to bone that would give him cigarette burns for fun. Billy instinctively drapes an arm around Heather’s shoulders and the blonde slips away into the crowd.

Then the sound from the stage kicks in. The singer, Tom Araya, is speaking in gruff tones into the mic, already sounding like a lord of death. Leading them into the gates of Hell. He’s so fucking cool.

“I want you to _scream_ if you love metal!” He bellows, pointing into the savage mass.

The crowd loses it. A beer gets thrown on the stage. Lands at a security guard’s feet, exploding into smithereens. Billy feels himself yelling, an instant reflex, fist in the air.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS _THAT_. I WANT YOU TO _SCREAM_.”

Billy’s eardrums almost burst at the response. He barely notices that he’s digging his fingers into Heather’s arm, that he’s pulling her towards crowd, grazing it’s violent edge. He just has to get a better look.

The drums and guitars start in a plodding, warlike rhythm. Billy’s whole body gives way to it instantly. The music's forming a path through his blood, his head moving of its own accord. Fists and devil horns are pumping in unison, a nazi salute here and there. People are already pushing at each other, hungry for mayhem. When Tom’s gravel voice kicks in, it’s pure demonic magic. Like they’re summoning Satan himself. Sheer brutality. An assault on the senses.

Fuck, its more than he could ever hope for.

He glances at Heather. She’s gawking at the hellish display,shell-shocked. It’s sort of sad how much she doesn’t get this. A fish out of water, thrust into the blazing underworld to fry. He feels sorry for her. That she doesn’t feel what he’s feeling. That she doesn’t know what it’s like to give yourself over to darkness, to chaos. To enjoy it.

“_Drink._” Billy has to almost yell in her ear to be heard. He points to her untouched beer. “It’ll help, trust me.”

Heather winces and takes a huge swig. The music’s tempo picks up, heads are thrashing violently. People are already stage diving.The inner circle of the crowd swarms like a wasps nest.

Billy’s in awe. They’re such a tight band. So fucking menacing. God, it just makes him want to rush into the crowd. Lose himself. Fuck shit up.

But he can’t.

Because she’s here.

And she’s_ clinging _to him. Just like he said she would.

Billy tells himself that he knew this was going to happen. That he was prepared for this. That she said she was scared from the beginning. But it still sort of blows. He wanted her to prove him wrong. Billy takes a swig of beer, tries to let it go. Tries to just watch. It’s hard.

Heather taps on his shoulder. “I have to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”

She escapes to find the ladies room before he can respond. Billy wonders if its to stop herself from having a panic attack. He smirks to himself at the thought but he’s disappointed. A part of him was hoping she’d just instantly love everything in spite of herself. That she’d realize why metal is so fucking cool. It’s the energy, the moment, the release. The pure catharsis.

The music gets louder, faster. Billy moves deeper into the crowd, bodychecks a few dudes on the way in. He can’t help it. He needs to be apart of this. Before he knows it he’s getting sucked into that churning wasps nest. Barrelling into bodies, knocking over a couple of drinks in people’s hands. Making them shove into him in turn. It’s fun. Invigorating. Brings him back to old times.

He doesn’t know how long he’s in there before Billy feels an arm grab his jacket. Heather. It’s a ballsy move considering how hard he’s running into people. She looks terrified. Billy shifts gears, grips her hand and drags her to the back of the crowd again, elbowing people every step of the way. 

“You said we wouldn’t go where the flailing is.” She says in his ear, half yelling over the noise.They're even further in the back of the room than last time, nearly touching the wall.

“Sorry” He shrugs guiltily. “Just not used to standing around.”

“I’m sorry I’m so bad at this." She confesses. "I don’t want to ruin this for you, I’m just really...overwhelmed. This is a lot.”

She looks so disappointed. In herself. Like she wanted to prove him wrong too. It kind of breaks his heart.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He runs his hands up and down her arms, squeezes her shoulders. “We’re just here to have fun.”

“I really do want to have fun with you.”

“Finish your beer.” He nods towards her drink. “Seriously, chug it. Almost everyone here is wasted and you need to get on their level.”

“Okay.” Heather laughs, getting that mischievous look in her eye. It makes Billy a little relieved. He prays that playful side of her takes over. “If you insist.”

Billy can’t help but grin as she chugs back her beer. He’s probably a little too eager about getting her drunk. At least buzzed. He knows firsthand how game for anything she gets when she’s tipsy.

After a couple of more songs, when they’re closer to the stage, Heather _does _loosen up. Swaying her body, nodding her head. Even screams at the end of a particularly rhythmic song, beaming at him after. Thank god for booze. The night’s turning out to be alright after all. She’s having fun. This is great.

It almost seems too good to be true.

* * *

It is.

About a half hour later, Heather tugs at his arm. “Billy, I don’t feel good.”

Billy shrugs it off. She’s just being a wimp.

“You probably just chugged that beer too fast.”

Heather shakes her head, looks distraught. “It’s something else. I feel weird.”

Billy sighs. “You need some water or something?”

“I don’t know. I’m just feeling really out of it.”

“You’re probably just lightheaded. I’ll grab you some water.”

Billy leaves and orders a tall glass of water from the bartender. He’s not that proud of ordering fucking _water_ at a metal show but he takes a sip too. He’s actually super thirsty. He hopes nobody’s looking.

When he turns to check on Heather, he nearly has a heart attack.

Some tall asshole with long black hair has his arms tight around her. She’s squirming, pushing at his chest. Billy watches in shock as the fucker reaches down and grabs her ass.

Billy barely hears the glass he’s holding shatter. He closes the gap between the bar and the crowd so fast he doesn’t feel himself moving. The scream of the music pierces into him, peaking his rage.

_We take on the world with hatred inside_

His fist retracts and he suckerpunches the guy in the head. The asshole staggers backwards, hands over face, his nose bursting blood. There’s a collective _ohhhhhh_ from the people standing around them.

_Mayhem the reason we fight_

Billy doesn’t let him recover. Punches him straight in the gut . He keels over, and Billy decks him in the chin. When he lands flat on his back, Billy’s on his chest in an instant. Fists landing as heavy as he’s capable of. He hardly hears anything now. Mostly static.The blood pumping in his ears. He gets clocked hard in the face, feels the warm blood gush from his nose to his mouth. But he doesn’t slow down. Doesn’t stop. He _can’t _stop.

_Evil! Has no disguise_

He feels arms yank him off the guy, pulled back a few feet. They’re strong but Billy’s stronger. He flails, kicks, and whoever’s holding him loses their grasp. Then he’s standing over the dude’s collapsed body again. The guy’s just groaning, head lolling as he begs him to stop.

_Evil! My wrath unfolds_

“Get the fuck up, asshole.” Billy kicks him sharp in the stomach. Someone’s saying _let it go, man._ Someone else is yelling _kick his ass! _Billy isn’t paying much attention to either of them. He’s completely absorbed in his own rage bubble. “I said get the fuck _up_.”

He kicks him again, harder, hears him wail. Moves to kick him in the head but then he’s being pulled away once more, this time by multiple people. He’s being dragged to the exit, the crowd getting smaller and smaller until he’s shoved outside into the bitter cold.

“You’re gone, buddy. You hear me?” A grizzled bouncer is gripping his collar, bellowing in his face. He looks like he’s seen one too many fights in his days. “You’re done. Get the fuck outta here.”

Billy shakes his head, dazed. Ears ringing. He licks his lips, tastes the copper tang of blood in his mouth.

“My girl’s in there.” He mutters, breathing heavy, wiping at his bloody nose with the back of his hand.

“She’s already outside.” The bouncer points down the side of the building, an agitated gesture before retreating back in the venue.

Billy turns and doesn’t see her anywhere. Just a group of metalheads passing around a joint. One of them spots him and whistles at his sorry face. _Shit, you okay, dude?_

Billy ignores him, walks around the corner of the building. He finds her, sitting alone on a yellow curb stop. Underneath the bright fluorescent glow of the outdoor lights. Her shoulders are hunched, head in her hands.

Billy goes over to her, looking down at her huddled form. He leans over,palms on his knees. A rivulet of blood drips down his upper lip, splatters on the pavement. “Hey, you okay?”

Heather’s shaking her head, face still in her hands. “No.”

“Sorry you had to see that.”

She doesn’t say anything. Stays scrunched in a ball.

“Heather?”

“I feel weird.” She croaks.

He’s surprised she’s not bringing up the fight. Seems unlike her. “Are you sick?”

“I think there’s something wrong with me.” She says muffled through her hands, choked up.

“Wrong how?”

“I’m like..” She takes a big breath, exhales slowly. “...seeing things.”

He leans closer, confused. “What do you mean seeing things?”

“Like...people’s faces are moving. The ground is moving. My body..it feels weird, like...I don’t even know...electric...”

Billy gets a strong instinct, a gut feeling. He squats down in front of her. “Hey, look at me.”

Heather shakes her head.

“C’mon baby, look at me.” He mutters, hand on her shoulder.

Heather takes another shuddering breath and looks up. Her pupils are _huge_ even under the bright light_, _fully dilated_._

Shit. This night is fucked straight to hell. He never should have brought her here.

“You’re bleeding.” She whispers. “Everywhere. It’s everywhere.” She sounds delirious. Staring at him like he’s an alien.

Billy tries to keep his voice calm as possible. He doesn’t want to freak her out. “Did someone else buy you a drink tonight?”

Heather shakes her head, glancing away from him like she’s afraid.

“Did you put your drink down anywhere?”

“No…” Heather’s staring at her palms now, mouth parted. “Wait..the girl with the nose ring...said she’d hold my beer while I went to the washroom. She held my beer...”

“Fuck.” Billy looks away, shakes his head, tongue running over his teeth. He knew that bitch was a headcase. ”She dosed you.”

“Dosed...” Heather says softly, still absorbed with her hands, turning them over.

He takes in her wide-eyed expression, her strange responses. “Looks like it.”

“Like...drugs?”

“Yeah, probably acid.” Some pretty strong shit too considering how fast she came up.

“Oh my god…” Heather moans.

“You’ve never taken it before, right?”

Heather shakes her head frantically, brows knitted. He can practically feel the dread pouring off her. She’s losing it.

“Okay. Heather? Listen to me.” He seeks out her eyes, but she keeps looking away. “You’re going to be _fine_, alright? You’re just gonna go on a little trip, a little adventure.” He runs his hand down her back. Then he remembers that on acid, everything is so sensitive. The slightest thing could set her off. “It’s okay if I touch you?”

Heather nods. “Yeah, but I can’t...can’t look at you. Can’t look at the blood.” She glances around the parking lot, face in awe. “Oh my _god_...”

Billy zips opens his jacket with one hand, lifts up his white shirt to wipe at his nose and mouth. The fabric gets soaked crimson. “We should go.”

“This place feels evil.” She says quietly, voice tight with fear. “I think this is a bad place.”

“Just breathe, baby.” He keeps rubbing her back. He hopes that’s the right thing to do, that he’s saying the right words. “This place isn’t evil. The acid’s just making you see shit that’s not there.”

“The music..they kept talking about the devil. And children getting murdered, and like... I don’t believe in the devil but now i’m scared he’s here. That he was in there with us.” Heather glances down at his bloody shirt, staring. “It’s moving. Everything’s...moving. Colors. Swirling.”

“Heather. There is no devil.” Billy enunciates, slow and careful.“He’s _not_ real. You’re just tripping out, okay? It’s not real.”

“Everyone here has so many problems.” She rambles. “Like... I can feel them hurting. Could feel everyone hurting in the crowd. But like, everywhere else too, the whole world. Everything’s so messed up..and we’re all mean to each other. It’s all wrong. Bad.”

Fuck, it’s turning into one of _those_ trips. Paranoia. Life filtered through a dark, cracked lens. He tries to think of something to comfort her, thinking of what he’d want to hear in her position. He remembers the way mom used to talk to him when he broke a bone or lost a fight. The way she used to talk when he was hurt and afraid.

“The world’s a weird place, babe.” He keeps his voice low, gentle. “There’s gonna be some bad stuff happening, but there’s gonna be good stuff too. There’s a lot of good. Sometimes it’s really hard to see it, but it’s there. It’s definitely there.”

It all sounds bizarre coming from his own mouth. He’s rarely in this position. He doesn’t feel great at it. Last time he had to comfort anyone like this was years ago. When Max broke her arm real bad skateboarding and they had to wait for an ambulance together. It feels strange, unsure, like walking in the dark.

“I want good right now.” She whimpers. “I need good.”

“It’s here now. It’s right here.” He moves to sit down next to her on the curb. “You’re gonna be okay, sweetheart. This’ll be over soon.”

Well, in at least six hours. But that’s the last thing you want to hear when you’re having a bad trip.

Heather’s tearing up now, voice getting higher, rising in sudden panic. She covers her face again. “I was so scared of you in there. You were so angry. I’ve never seen you like that. It’s like...the devil went into you. You scared me.”

Billy’s throat clenches up from the way she says that. From the way she still refuses to look at him. He feels so goddamn guilty. A stubborn part of him doesn’t want to admit it though. Doesn’t want her to be right. He was just protecting her. Just doing his job as the man. They’re at a Slayer concert for fuck’s sake, who gives a shit.

“You were in trouble. Of course I was angry.” He can feel the gentle demeanour slipping a little, getting defensive.

“But you didn’t stop.” She whispers, staring at the pavement in front of her feet. “Like...you were gonna kill him.”

“I got carried away. It happens.”

“You should have stopped. You didn’t stop.”

He takes a deep breath, tries to center himself. This is really not the conversation they should be having right now. Or ever.

“Look, we’re gonna go now, okay? We’re gonna go to a better place, far away.”

Heather goes silent again, expression bewildered as she continues to gaze at the asphalt. “Am I going to die? I feel like I’m going to die.”

She’s tripping the fuck out. He needs to get her to the car, away from this hard cement and cold.

“No, baby. You’re gonna live for a long time.” He murmurs, trying to channel that unfamiliar part of himself again. “You’re gonna have a really long, happy life. I’m sure of it.”

Heather nods, like she needed to hear that. “Let’s go. I need to go. I have to leave.”

“Alright, I’m gonna help you get up, okay?” He offers his hand to her. She stares at it for a long moment before taking it, twining her fingers through his.

* * *

Just getting up and moving seems to be helping a lot. After about a minute of walking, she doesn’t look like she’s going to cry anymore. He can’t help but watch her as she takes everything in, like she’s seeing for the first time. He’s starting to wish he got dosed too.

“The parking lot..” Heather marvels. “It looks so...like a cartoon parking lot. Everything’s a cartoon! Bubbly.”

“Yeah, I bet it looks pretty interesting. Does it look funny to you?”

Heather laughs, suddenly cheerful. It’s such a stark contrast. “It’s like...they have personalities. Each car is giving me a different one.”

This is good. He needs to keep her in this lighter place. A fun place.

“Yeah, what about this car?” He points to a red Pontiac as they walk past it. “What’s it’s personality?”

“Very laid back. He just wants to hang out here.”

“And...what about that one?” He points at a black Jeep.

“That one wants to leave. He’s really really bored. Wants to go on an adventure with us instead.” She’s giggling, squeezing his hand tighter.

They stop in front of the Camaro and he hears Heather's sharp inhale.

“And what about this one?” Billy grins. He really wants to know what she has to say.

Heather’s staring at it, eyes like saucers. “Wow...this one is a little scary, like a...panther. Really powerful. And wild."

Billy chuckles, appreciating the analogy. “Yeah, she’s wild alright.”

Heather let's go of his hand, puts her palms on the hood of the Camaro. “This is a really intense car.”

“You ready to sit inside it?”

Heather frowns. “I dont know. I don’t know if she wants me to.”

“Oh, she definitely wants you to. She likes you.”

“I feel like I have to be really respectful.”

“Don't worry, she won’t bite.” Billy unlocks the passenger door. “I’m gonna help you get in, okay?”

He guides Heather to the passenger seat, opens the door for her. Heather cautiously climbs in.

When Billy sits down in his carseat, Heather’s looking all around the inside, wide-eyed. Like she’s never been in a car before.

“Cars are really weird.” She mumbles.

Billy starts the engine, pulls out of the parking spot. “Yeah, why’s that?”

“Like...you’re just going around in this big moving piece of metal. And it goes wherever you want it to go. We’re in the future.”

“Pretty cool, right?”

“But what about horses? Why don’t we ride horses? Everyone used to.”

Billy puts himself in her headspace. It’s pretty easy after taking acid a bunch of times. “I dunno, riding a horse is kinda weird too, isn’t it? You’re riding on top of another living creature.”

“Oh my _god_, that is really weird.” Heather murmurs. “And walking is weird. Having legs. Our body is like...a vehicle. Weird.”

“Maybe everything’s weird.” Billy offers.

“Everything _is_ weird.” Heather gasps loudly. “Everything is weird! Is that okay?”

“Yup. Weird is okay.”

“Weird is okay. Wow.” She says in awe. A massive revelation. “Weird is okay. Weird is _okay_. I’m okay.”

God, she’s hilarious. He gets it, though. Everytime he trips, the simplest thing ends up being the key to the universe.

She goes silent, staring at her hands again, smooths them over the dashboard. Billy doesn’t know whether to keep the conversation going or just let her enjoy her trip. She seems to be in a lot better of a mood now.

“I like you.” She says bluntly.

“I like you too.”

“I think it’s because…” She drifts off. She’s gawking at him now, leaning to look closer at his face. “Wow. Everytime i look at you I see..so many patterns. And they move, and change. I can see you...so clearly. Everything about you.”

“Yeah, that can happen.”

“You’re a beautiful human being.”

Billy snorts. “Thanks.”

“You don’t know it though. Don’t feel it.”

“I mean, I’m not blind. I know I’m not ugly.”

“No, not that way. Like, inside.”

Billy nods, not sure how to respond to that.

“You’re an angel. I can tell right now.” She continues, staring like she can see right into his soul. “Wow.”

“_Really_?” He seriously wants to see what she’s seeing. He doesn’t get where that’s coming from. "You must be on some pretty good shit."

“-but a lot of the time, most of the time, you get really cranky. So people can’t tell.”

Billy chews at the inside of his cheek. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“Why do you get so grumpy?”

Billy feels himself getting defensive again. “I dunno, just always been like that. People piss me off.”

“Aww. You’re just an angel having a bad day.” Heather states sagely, touching his shoulder.

More like a bad life. She's real cute though. Real sweet. Out of the two of them, he's pretty sure she's the angel.

“I want to make you happy." She continues. "I want to tell you a joke. I think it’s gonna make you feel really good. I want you to feel good.”

Billy shrugs, going along with her, wondering what she’s going to say next. “Sure, tell me a joke.”

“What’s the last thing grandpa said before he kicked the bucket?”

“What did he say?”

"How far-"She starts laughing, has to force herself to speak slowly. “How far do you think I can kick this bucket?”

Billy rolls his eyes, grins as he makes a left-hand turn. Though he’s really only smiling at how much she’s laughing at her own joke. “That’s a good one, babe.Your dad tell you that?”

“Yes." Heather beams. "Do you feel good now?”

He actually does, content to just listen to her surreal chatter, her bad jokes. “Uh-huh, I think it worked.”

“Daddy told me that joke a long time ago, and now I really really get it, because-_woah_,” She snaps her head to the right, presses her face to the glass. ”Snow looks really cool.”

“Yeah? What do you see?”

“Waves…and like..._wow_. The trees are dancing. They’re saying hi to us. Helloooo.” She waves back.

“Yeah, nature is pretty amazing on acid. Wish I could see that shit with you right now.”

Heather settles back into her seat, gaze on the roof of the car. “I feel like...we’re gonna go some place really awesome.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“The moon!” Heather crows, hands up in the air.

“Okay, we’ll go. FIrst thing tomorrow.”

Heather grabs his shoulder again. “Let’s go now. Take me to the moon!”

“Can never find the button that turns this thing into a rocketship. You gotta help me.”

“We just have to imagine really hard.” She says closing her eyes, fingers at her temples.”I figured it out. If we imagine hard enough, we can go anywhere we want. We just never try hard enough.”

“Alright, I’m trying.”

“This car is half panther, half rocketship.” She declares, breaking into giggles again. “How did I not see it before? It’s so obvious."

She’s so damn silly right now. He can’t stop smiling.

“That’s why I chose her.”

“She’s so nice." Heather absently runs her hands over the arm rest, patting it. "I want to call her...Judy.”

“No, no, no.” Billy shakes his head, smirking. “We’re not gonna call her fucking _Judy_. She wants something cooler than that.”

“What about...Veronique?”

“Uh. No.”

“Electra.”

“_Better_, but no.”

“Let me name your car...” She whines.

“You’re gonna have to do better than those names, babe.”

“What about Lita? Like Lita Ford. The metal girl. She's like…" Heather pauses, gasps again. "Woah, she's already half car."

Can't argue with that screwball logic. Also he's worried if he keeps saying no she's gonna get sad and freak out or something.

Billy hums theatrically, playing her game. “Yeah, alright. Lita it is.”

“_Yes!_” Heather claps her hands, giddy. Clears her throat. “Lita, take us to the moon, please.”

They both wait. Nothing happens.

“Lita’s taking a nap.” Heather decides. “She’s really tired from driving so fast all the time.”

Billy sighs in disappointment, clicking his tongue. “Goddammit, Lita.”

* * *

The ride home is flat out entertaining for Billy. Heather rambles a lot. Turns out she has a lot of theories about the universe, about time, about fucking everything. At one point she just tips the seat back and says she’s going to just think for awhile. Billy understands the feeling,bids her a good journey. She pops in now and then to try and relay her "visions" but they’re pretty out there. Something to do with her mother's mother's mother. And all the mothers before that. The very first mother. Billy just nods, agrees with everything she says. He has no fucking idea what she's talking about. She's deep down the rabbit hole now.

The original plan was to drop her back off at Carol’s house. Billy can't do that anymore. Carol would probably fuck with Heather's head or something. Turn her psychotic. At least make her trip go bad again. He can't take her back to her mansion either. If her dad catches his daughter coming out of the Camaro high on acid he would definitely hunt Billy down and shoot him dead in the street. And that's if he's feeling generous.

So he sneaks Heather into his room. It's kind of awkward to give her a leg up through his window when she keeps raving about how he lives in a gingerbread house over and over. That she wants to eat the windowpane. He has to shush her while also trying not to laugh.Billy's not sure how Neil would react to him shoving a blathering, high-off-her-ass girl into his room. Maybe if he's drunk enough he won't care. With Neil, it's always a roulette game.

They finally crash in his bed. Billy's exhausted but Heather's trip is in no way finished.

"Can't sleep." She whispers in the dark. "The patterns keep coming. I keep seeing...pyramids. I think we're in Egypt."

"Yeah, you're not gonna sleep for awhile, babe." He mutters, rubbing at his eyes. "You want me to turn on the lights?"

“No. I’m going everywhere. Can you hold me?” She nudges into him, headfirst, like a cat. Billy suppresses a laugh.

He shifts closer, wraps an arm around her. “Wasn’t sure if you wanted me to or not.”

"You're so warm, like a bath. I’m...melting. We’re melting together.” She sighs, almost moans at the sensation and he gently shushes her again. “I wish you could see what I'm saying, Billy."

"What you're saying or seeing?"

"Saying. I wish I could just speak and then a hologram would come out of my mouth. You could watch it like a movie."

"That would be pretty fucking cool."

"I never want to do this again."

Billy chuckles softly, lips brushing her forehead. "Something tells me you definitely will. We should take it together. Outside, when the weather’s nice."

"Okay. What should I do now?"

"I dunno, this part of the trip is always weird. When you plateau and it never ends. Kinda just have to ride it out."

"Everything is weird."

Billy grins, eyes closed. "It's a good thing weird is okay."

"Yeah...it’s okay." Heather breathes, holding him closer. "We're both okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
> 
> [Btw, I wrote a smutty one shot of what happens the morning after Billy sleeps over at Heather's.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182745)


	17. sugar is sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the concert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's very short. Longer chapters to come.
> 
> It's kind of like an inversion of the one shot I wrote from Heather's perspective.

Heather smells like vanilla cake and tangy sweat. Delicate and dirty. It’s the first thing Billy is aware of when the alarm on his digital watch startles him awake. He has to carefully wrench his arm out from under her to turn it off. It's seven in the morning. He barely slept three hours. He’s not sure if she got even that much. She was still tripping when he drifted off. Thankfully he was smart enough to remember to set the alarm. Now he can sneak her home. Or maybe to Carol’s place. Or maybe both of those are bad ideas. He’ll figure out where to take her later. He just needs to get her out of here before Susan gets up to make Sunday breakfast.

He looks down at Heather. Stares, really. She’s so serene in the emerging dawn. Eyes shut. Skin cream-pale and lips rosy. Morning trickling through his curtains, casting shadows and light on her. Otherworldly. Sleeping beauty. Heavenly creature. He wants to lay his mouth on that perfection. Needs to. He sows soft kisses into her velvet skin. So slow and gentle. Lips skimming her cheek. The curve of her neck. Her supple bottom lip. She’s going to have to get up anyways, might as well wake her like this.

She doesn’t wake up,just breathes deeply, but it’s okay. Billy wants to keep soaking her in. He leans up on one elbow, hand stroking down her shoulder. He feels safe for a moment as he gazes, as he touches her. A growing wholesome-ness. Like being mended. Like being slowly stitched up where he’s torn. It’s a weird feeling. New and dangerous. He's not sure if he likes it, if it's even real.The alarm in his brain is singing clear. Telling him to back off, beware. Shut down all systems. Bolt.

But he’s filled with a matrix of emotion he can’t escape, can barely fathom. Suddenly paralyzed by its intensity. Desire, then gratitude, followed by hope. Then a joy that feels like a deep ache. A heady cocktail. Knocks him flat. He can barely breathe. A terrible mourning hits him last. Salt in the wound. Bitter aftertaste. For the loss to come. For what will be taken from him. The inevitable.

It always comes. It always cuts. His life is testament to that. He’s just temporarily lucky right now.

He pushes that latter thought away when she finally stirs.

“Think I’ve been hit by a truck.” She mutters. Billy’s heart lurches when her doe-eyes open then close. Still between worlds, dreamy with half-sleep.

“You wanna sleep for another ten?” Billy whispers. He smooths his palm under her shirt and over her belly. His cock awakening under his briefs when he skims the undercurve of her breast.

“If I go back to sleep I’ll never wake up again.” She sighs. “But it’s so hard to keep my eyes open.”

“It’s okay, you can sleep.”

“Slap me.”

“What?” Billy snorts softly. “No.”

“I think it’s the only way I’ll wake up.” She gives a half-smile, eyelids slitting open before glueing shut again. Her mouth parts, pink lips perfect and plush.He wants to put his thumb against them. His mouth. His cock. Wants to comfort her. Claim her. He doesn’t know what the hell he wants.

“Not gonna fuckin’ slap you.” His hand slides down her ribs, her stomach, to the lace edge of her underwear. She took her jeans off in the night. “Could wake you up another way though.”

Heather shifts next to him, closer. Shivers. “What way...”

His hand moves under her panties. She’s already silky wet. A ferocious heat prickles up his spine. Almost painful. His mouth is on her throat fast. His hand isn’t as gentle as it could be, should be. She whines, small and breathy. It consumes him. He starts rubbing her clit hard. Lips quickly travel up to ravage hers. He doesn’t care about the stale taste of their mouths, remnants of beer and blood. How she’s not kissing him back as eagerly. He feels frantic in a way he doesn’t recognize. Overwhelmed with need, with fear and longing. There’s a lump in his throat. A pit in his stomach. His eyes are stinging out of nowhere. He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him. He drives two fingers in her, feels her stiffen. Keeps going anyway. Fucking her with harsh force.

“Billy, that hurts.” Her voice cracks. “You’re hurting me.”

His hand stills. His desperate bubble bursts, guilt burning into his chest.

“Sorry.” He winces. He slips out to caress her clit, touch going feather-soft in an instant. He presses a kiss to her cheek, the corner of her mouth. Apologetic. “Got carried away.”

“It’s okay.” Her lips graze his cheek in turn, demeanor going hazy again. Her hips writhe into his fingers as he keeps circling that little nub of pleasure. “I like this better.”

“Yeah, baby. Want you to feel good.” His face is buried in her hair, in her neck. Smelling her. Nuzzling her. Her hand moves over his briefs. Thumbs at the blatant wet spot forming on the fabric. He’s just as wet for her as she is for him. She palms his hard cock through the cotton before reaching inside to take him in her hand. He almost comes right then and there. He’s never felt this hungry for touch before. It’s hard to keep focused on her when he’s already getting tremors. She strokes his slick shaft a couple of times and he bucks into her touch.

“Wait. Heather.” He pants, grasping her wrist. “Gonna come.”

“Want you to.” Her grip tightens.

“Heather, fuck, I-” It’s too late. He peaks hard, all over her hand, sticky-warm. She’s kissing him deep as his hips jerk. She’s milking him with the softest touch. Until there’s nothing left. Feels so cathartic, so agonizingly good, reaching to heaven. It’s hard not to moan like a bitch. He has to bury the sound in her shoulder. When it ends there’s a color of dark shame in him. He hasn’t come that quick since grade school. She barely touched him. “_Jesus. _I said _wait._”

“Sorry.” She mumbles. Still sleepy, eyes half-moons. Kind of loopy. She's probably still high. “Love watching you. Feeling you. You’re perfect.”

His skin feels tight as a vice. He’s getting that sharp pang in his throat again. He pulls her close to his chest. Smothers her in his arms.

This is so surreal. What he’s feeling. What he wants. What he craves. What he sees in her. What even is this? This is like...like...

Like really fucking pathetic. He’s a total pussy right now. She’s embarrassing him. She’s _humiliating _him.

Cunt.

He pulls away. It wakes her out of her daze. She groans in confusion.

“Gotta take you back.” He grunts, sitting up. He feels cold now. Like he’s been plunged into a freezing lake. It’s better. Familiar. He’s himself again.

He finds her jeans on the floor and tosses them on her side of the bed. Opens his bedside table and retrieves a roll of toilet paper. Takes a piece and wipes down his dick. Passes the roll to her.

"I have to pee." She murmurs, hint of a whine as she wipes her hand clean. Dabs at his sheets.

He can't risk someone seeing her. Especially Neil.

"You're gonna have to hold it. Diner's close by. You can go there."

"Okay..." She pauses. Touches his arm, hopeful. "Can we get food?"

She's giving him those puppy dog eyes. He melts way too fast for his liking. Ice block under warm rays.

"Yeah, whatever." He huffs. "You're paying."


	18. stay, little valentine, stay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy takes Heather out for Valentines Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd here's another rollercoaster. Hope you took some Gravol.
> 
> I have no self control and could not possibly wait til Feb.14 to post this.

Valentine’s Day.

Fucking _Valentine's Day_.

It’s a god-awful time of year. A pestilence on society. A soul-sucking consumerist nightmare. Its swift approach fills Billy with a deep anxiety, a gnawing dread. He never knows what to do for whatever chick is on his arm when the stupid date arrives, but the guilt always gets to him eventually. The pressure makes him cave. Never in a big way but enough to make him cringe. He’ll steal a Hershey’s Kiss or give away a cigarette. Maybe eat some pussy if she looks pissed enough. Nothing pricey. Nothing that takes effort. Definitely nothing meaningful. No one’s been exactly enthusiastic to receive anything he’s given.

Well, except for the pussy-eating. That’s the trick up his sleeve that’ll let him get away with murder for the rest of his life.

But he knows he can’t really pull that shit off with Heather. He’s not stupid. Whatever they are at this point is worth more than stealing candy from a corner store. Heather’s a pampered princess. A spoiled brat. She’s gonna want something substantial by now. Just eating her out isn’t gonna cut the mustard. She’s gonna want that and more. What’s worse is that he kinda _does _want to do something nice for her. Doesn’t want to look like too big of an asshole. It’s a first.

Thankfully, Tommy saves the day for once. Gives him an offer he’s not going to refuse. He’s got a ticket for a Valentine’s Day Special. Half-off for a double-date at a local bar and grill. It’s cheap. The place was already cheap to begin with. Plus he won't be forced to be all...intimate. Tommy’s presence guarantees it won’t be a big romantic outing. It’ll be a relatively casual endeavour. Billy’s not up for much more than that.

The weird thing about it is that Tommy and Carol broke up again right after the Slayer concert a week ago. Something to do with Carol being ditched by him at a party. Yet for some bizarre reason Tommy already has another date. Billy doesn’t get it. He can’t imagine why anyone in their right mind would go out with the guy. Dude has zero game and looks like a fucking scumbag. Beady eyes and that too-wide smile. Doesn’t even have the personality to make up for it.

Whatever. She’s probably some butterface that’ll dump Tommy after having to endure an entire meal with him. That’ll be funny to witness. Billy_ loves_ to watch things fall apart.

That is, except when it’s happening to Billy.

* * *

Schmidt’s Grill is a greasy, crowded cave of a restaurant. It’s current patrons are jaded old-timers and tired families with screaming babies. The lightbulbs flicker. There’s an odd smell Billy can’t pinpoint. The tables are stained and the staff has seen better days. Nobody looks happy. Leave it to Tommy to bring them here. Then again, Billy probably would have gone for the same thing.Whatever’s most affordable is good enough.

Heather’s nose wrinkles as soon as she steps foot inside.She’s way too classy for this trash establishment. Stands out like a beacon. She’s all dolled up. Glittery pale-pink dress with translucent tights. Soft and feminine with glossed lips and her hemline teasing over her thighs.She oozes expensive.Those pearls she’s got on are definitely real. Billy didn’t really bother to do much other than undo his shirt a few buttons and slather his best cologne over his dick. He’s not sure if it’ll see any action tonight by the way she’s looking at him.

“Tommy says it’s better than it seems.” Billy insists as they slide into the only available booth. Tommy never actually said that. Their seat is torn open at the edge, foam exposed. There’s yelling coming from the kitchen nearby. The floor under his boots is a bit sticky. The table is too.

Heather just shrugs out of her jacket. Crosses her long legs away from him before snapping open a ratty drinks menu.

Damn. So icy. Looks like he’s gonna have to eat some major pussy to make up for this one. He scans over her creamy skin, how her little girly dress has ridden up her thighs. He licks his lips and grins. Could be worse.

A sad-eyed waitress comes over and Billy asks for a couple of waters. She leaves and comes back with two chipped glasses.

He circles an arm around Heather’s sulking shoulders, leans in and takes a whiff of the new honeyed perfume she’s wearing. “I hear this place has great fries.”

Heather gives him a cynical look. She lifts her water to the dim light, inspects it thoroughly. “The glasses are dirty.”

Billy sucks at his teeth. Jesus, can’t she just pretend? Just appreciate that he’s buying her dinner? Does she have to be Miss Rich Bitch right now?

“You’ll live, sweetheart.”

On that note, Billy sees Tommy out of the corner of his eye. He’s never been more relieved to see the smarmy fucker. Now he won’t have to explain himself.

“Well look what the cat dragged in.” Billy sneers as Tommy approaches them shark-faced as ever. “Where’s your girl at? Don’t tell me she dropped you already.”

“She’s in the bathroom.” Tommy replies, bench squeaking as he sits down across from them. “Had to clean herself up if you know what I’m sayin’.” He gives Billy a gross wink.

And they’re off to a great start.

“_Wow._ How much was she?” Billy asks flatly. The urge to cut into Tommy’s pompous act is overwhelming. He’s already annoying the hell out of him.

Tommy offers a sleazy grin. “You gonna talk like that in front of your lil lady, Hargrove?”

Billy peeks at Heather. She’s looking at him with pinched brows. Not impressed.

He averts his gaze, thumbing at a dent in the table. “So who is she? Your cousin or something?”

“_No._” Tommy scoffs. “We go way back, but we really got to talking this week. You’ve probably seen her. Pretty little thing.”

“Pretty?”

“Oh yeah, total babe.”

“Well, whaddya know.” Billy takes a sip of water. It tastes grimy. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I might be a loyal man, but I can play the game when I want to, buddy.”

“I’ll have to see it to believe it, amigo.”

The waitress comes back over.

“Can I start you off with anything to drink?” She hands them all dirty dinner menus. Billy’s not certain if anything in this restaurant has been wiped down in the past month. How the hell is this place even open?

“A beer.” Billy says smoothly. Tommy makes a gesture at him with his chin. “Make that two.”

Neither of them get carded. Apparently the one perk of coming here is that nobody gives a shit.

Then Billy notices a figure approaching them. The mystery girl. The sight of her knocks the wind out of him in the worst way.

It’s _Teresa_.

And she doesn’t look too happy to see him.

“Billy?” Teresa stands with her arms crossed in front of their table. A tiny black dress sucks to her ample curves. One saucy hip juts out. Her eyes are scanning over Billy like furious lazers.

“Uh…” Billy’s sweating buckets. His tongue is dead weight in his mouth.

“So you two know each other.” Tommy points between them.

“Oh, we know each other.” Teresa quips as she sidles into the booth next to Tommy. She flicks her fiery mane over her shoulder. Leans forward, cleavage spilling over the edge of the table. Green eyes screaming murder. “Don’t we, Billy?”

Billy just nods as he scans the room for the nearest exit. He’s totally fucked.

For one, he never called her again after he picked Heather up from the cat shelter. And he sort of said he would. Promised, actually. Also, she _may_ have called his house multiple times after, asking for him. Like, twenty goddamn times. Probably more. Left angry messages and everything. Max picked up the phone for most of those calls and Billy had to hiss at her to lie about him being home. Can you blame him? Who calls someone twenty fucking times in a week? Teresa can’t take a hint. She might be hot, but she’s a fucking psycho.

“What’s your name again?” Heather asks lightly after Tommy fails to make introductions. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

The redhead gives her a judgemental once-over. “Teresa.”

Billy swears he feels Heather burst into flames next to him.

“Oh.” She croaks, going quiet.

“This is Heather.” Tommy gestures across from him, oblivious to the escalating tension. “And uh- I guess you know Billy, so let’s fucking order. I’m fucking starving.”

Tommy might actually end up being Billy’s salvation tonight, even as he brought this hell upon him. He has absolutely no idea that he ever had a thing with Teresa. And he never shuts up. All Billy has to do is keep him talking about himself. Let him dominate the conversation. Then maybe Billy can slither his way out of this.

That is, if Teresa doesn’t kill him first.

She’s drumming her acrylic nails on the table. Biting at her painted bottom lip while she glares at him. Billy’s afraid she might lose it, so he tries to clear the air.

“So...how’s it goin’?”

Teresa's red lips twist into a cold smile. “I'm suddenly sick to my stomach.” 

To his relief, their waitress arrives just then.Everyone orders whatever seems edible. Billy gets fries because it seems safe. From then on Tommy takes over the entire conversation, just as predicted. Rambles on and on about how his pot dealer cheated him and he has to smoke schwag now. In any other circumstance Billy would shut him down, but Tommy’s bullshit is the only thing that’s capable of drowning out the tense atmosphere.

The waitress comes back with their meals way too soon. Looks like something that came out of a squashed TV dinner. Everyone's hesitant to dig in, except Billy who jams a fry in his mouth. It's so dry, all the moisture leaves his tongue.

“You know, this place isn’t so bad. I think I got us a pretty good deal here.” Tommy says, as if they haven't just been served glorified dog food. 

Teresa snorts, examining her nails. She flashes her eyes up at Billy.

“So, Billy, how long have you and...what’s your name again?” She gives Heather a condescending smirk.

“Heather…”

"Heather. Of course.” She purrs. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”

Billy clears his throat. “Like...two months.”

“Oh, that’s great.” Teresa nods, fake smile straining. “That’s just great.”

Tommy cuts in, lightly elbowing Teresa in the arm. “Hargrove’s probably gonna marry this one, I swear to god.”

Teresa’s eyes flare up. “Is that so?”

‘Yeah, never thought he’d get so hooked on any chick. I think she’s got him on a leash or somethin’.” He shakes his head at Billy. “We haven't partied in weeks, bud. Where ya been?”

“We’re just hanging out. Not a big deal.” Billy mutters, heat rising to his face. He feels Heather’s eyes on his profile as Teresa glares at him with all the subtlety of a bulldozer.

“Yeah, hangin’ out in the backseat, amirite? Don’t come a-knockin if the Camaro’s a-rockinnn.” Tommy leans over to give Billy a high-five. Billy lets him hang. Tommy retracts his hand, looking offended. “Well, no need to be a lil bitch about it, buddy.”

Billy scoffs and lifts his beer to his lips. It’s warm. He starts chugging it back anyways.

“So, you guys met at a party, I’m guessin?” Tommy ventures. Billy wishes he'd stop asking questions.

Teresa’s stare is still slicing through him. “Yeah. Gave him a blowjob in the bathroom that night. Remember that, Billy?”

Billy chokes on his beer.

“Don’t think this is really the time or place, hun'.” He grunts under his breath.He glances at Heather. She’s looking like she can't decide whether she should punch him or Teresa. Tommy's brows are raised, lips pressed together. Billy takes another swig of his drink for good measure.

“Suddenly so _shy_.” Teresa says with mock confusion. “You seemed super enthusiastic about it before. Never heard a guy moan so loud in my life."

_Holy shit._

He leans forward, trying to keep calm. “Seriously. Not a good time to do this.”

“Well, after you dumped me without me knowing, you didn't give me a chance to say my piece. Like over the phone, or like, I dunno, _in person_ like a normal human would. I mean, I was there whenever you needed it-silly me-but you didn’t even have the decency to give me a phone-call.”

“Maybe leaving me five angry messages in a day scared me off.” Billy shoots back.

“I was trying to get hold of you for a week!”

“I was busy.”

“You were busy getting laid apparently.”

“I really wasn’t.”

She points a long nail at Heather. “So this virgin here is more your type, huh?”

“I’m _not_ a virgin.” Heather corrects, poise fading.

“Yeah, not anymore, I'm sure.” Teresa seethes.“Guess we’ll have to see if he ditches you when some fresher meat comes along.”

"Teresa-" Billy begins, warning in his tone. Their table has started to attract an audience. The people in the booth in front of them have turned to stare.

"-and considering he'd rather go out with a prepubescent twig than me, who knows who he'll want to fuck next."

Heather's jaw drops open. "Excuse me?"

_“Teresa.”_ Billy snaps, keeping his voice low. “You’re acting fuckin’ crazy, alright? Shut the fuck up.”

“_You _shut the fuck up!” She hisses, knuckle wiping the moisture starting to well from the corner of her eye. Her mascara smears. She grabs her fork and stabs at her vegetables. Takes a small bite and grimaces before she swallows. “Ugh. By the way, Tommy.Thanks for taking me to the worst restaurant in Indiana. You're really impressing me. Great job.”

Their table fades into awkward silence, tension too thick to breathe. Their audience goes back to their meals.

“Well, that was weird.” Tommy laughs after a long minute. Nobody responds, just stares at their plates. He leans down to Teresa’s ear, still speaks loud enough that everyone can hear him. “Did you still wanna, y’know, come over after this? My parents aren’t home. I think they got some wine stowed away somewhere. I gotta King size bed. It’ll be super romantic.”

Jesus, Tommy. If Billy ever wants to look good all he has to do is stay near this asshole.

“I’d rather die.” Teresa reaches over and grabs Billy’s drink. Chugs the rest. Slams the drink back on the table and gives him another bitter grin. “Unless Billy wants to tag along. I bet he’d love that. Bet the three of us being _romantic_ is the only thing that would get him to hang out with me again.”

Billy can’t handle this right now. This chick is clearly spiralling. But before he can formulate a retort, Heather’s hand slaps abruptly on his shoulder.

"Oh my god. I just realized. We’re late for that thing."

"What thing?" Billy searches her face in confusion. Heather’s eyes widen at him for a moment before he realizes she’s trying to save them. “Oh, _that _thing. Right.”

Heather nods, pushing hard at his shoulder as she shuffles down the seat, forcing him to get out of the booth."Yes, a _very_ important thing. Can't miss it." She turns to the duo across from them, and gives a big shrug, barely hiding her ploy. “Looks like we double booked. Rain check?" She slides a twenty dollar bill on the table. Way too much for what they ordered. She looks at the redhead."So nice to meet you, Teresa. Hope you have a great night."

Teresa’s scowl seems permanently etched on her face at this point and there’s a baffled _uh_ _okay? _from Tommy, but Heather’s already out of the booth, fingers digging deep into Billy’s arm as he's dragged through the dank restaurant. They're out the front door and into the chill evening air before he can absorb what’s happened.

“Oh my fucking _god_.” Heather wrenches her hand from his arm as the door shuts behind them.“What did you _do_ to her?”

“Fuck if I know.”

“That was literally a nightmare!” Heather starts marching across the cramped parking lot, towards the Camaro parked down the street. Billy has to take wide steps to keep up.

“You uh...shouldn’t have seen that.”

“Yeah. Well. I did.” She says sharply, her back to him as she continues her quick strides. “She was so _hurt, _Billy. You really hurt her. Should I be worried?”

“No.”

“Because I’m kind of worried now.”

Right before they cross the empty road, it hits Billy that Heather’s not wearing her wool jacket. Her teeth are chattering. Arms wrapped tight around herself.

"You left your coat.”

“I’m not going back in there.” Heather gives her head a frantic shake. “I refuse to go back in there.”

“You’re gonna leave a perfectly good jacket behind?”

“I’ve got like twenty jackets. It’s fine.”

Billy rolls his eyes. Her rich is showing. He shrugs off his leather coat. It’s too cold for the weather, but half the time he’s too stubborn to wear his winter jacket when he can just crank the heat in his car.

“You’re shaking like a fuckin’ rabbit.” He wraps the leather over her shoulders. His skin breaks out in goosebumps as the chill whips through the back of his shirt. “Typical chick. Dressing all skimpy for a date.”

“Says the guy with the shirt open to his bellybutton!” Heather scoffs, sliding her arms into the sleeves. “Thank you.”

“I’m just a typical guy then.” Billy grins as they approach the Camaro at the side of the road.

“No, you’re not.” She shakes her head. “You’re definitely not.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He opens the passenger door for her. It only hits him then that he’s playing gentlemen. Is he gonna drape his coat over a puddle for her next?

Whatever. This is just him making up for Teresa and the worst restaurant in Indiana. He’s just doing his Valentine’s Day duty. Or something.

Billy gets in his seat and is immediately met by her staring at him expectantly.

“Jesus, don’t tell me you want to talk about this.” Billy gripes.

“Of course I do!”

“Look. I dropped her after you called me to pick you up at the shelter. I didn’t even like her. I mean, you met her. Do you really think I'd like her? I hate her.”

“No, I’m not worried about that. It’s how you treated her that freaks me out.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” He promises. “Like, it’s not like she and I ever hung out or talked. All we did was fuck. I honestly didn’t even think about it.”

“So, because of that you just abandoned her?”

“She’s a bitch.”

“That’s not a good explanation.” She huffs.

“Yeah, it is. Also, she called you a prepubescent twig and I’m the one you’re mad at?”

Heather considers. “Okay, yeah, that was mean.But I know that’s not true, and even if it was, you don’t seem to have a problem with my body. So I think I'm good.”

“Your body was all I thought about every time I fucked her.” He reaches over and grabs her knee. His fingers start travelling up her toned inner thigh, tracing the thin fabric. “Your body drives me insane.”

She puts her palm over his hand. “Don’t distract me from my main point.”

“And that is?”

“You should call her and apologize.”

Billy raises a skeptical brow. “No.”

“You should.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do, and it’ll prove you’re not a total jerk.”

“I don’t mind being a jerk to her. Not after tonight. She deserves it.”

“I really think you should call her.”

Billy groans, leans back in his seat. “What if I call her and she like...writes her name in fire on my front lawn or something?”

“Then you can call the cops. Honestly though, I think she’s more likely to do that if you_ don’t_ call her.”

“Okay.” Billy sighs in exasperation. “Fine. I’ll call her.”

“Do it next time we hang out. Just to make sure you actually do it.”

“Whatever.” Billy shrugs. He takes a deep breath, looking at the dark horizon, the twinkling traffic lights. Words of regret want to escape his lips. There’s a long drag of silence before he caves. “Sorry about taking you there.”

“You didn’t know she’d be there.”

“I also didn’t know I’d be taking you to a cesspool. Tommy was talking out his ass again. Said it'd be nice.”

“It’s okay. It's actually just nice you wanted to take me out in the first place.”

He nods, tongue sweeping over his teeth. He leans over, reaches into his leather jacket that Heather’s wearing. Takes out a cigarette. Lights up, exhaling with smoky relief. Heather motions over to him like she wants some.

“Don’t tell me I’m getting you into these now.” He hands over the burning cigarette.

“No." She takes a quick drag. "Just after any extreme life event I feel like it’s a good way to relax. Helps when...things get too intense.”

Billy has a flashback to a few weeks ago when Neil hit him across the face. He had choked back tears when he couldn't find any cigarettes in his room after to ease the pain. “Guess that’s why I haven’t quit yet.”

Heather pauses. Touches his arm with a careful hand. “Is life intense for you lately?” She murmurs. “Seems like it’s too much sometimes…”

“Livin’ on the edge, baby.” Billy snorts, eyes darting away from her. He can feel her looking at him like she’s trying to get into his head. Like she's about to ask more questions. And he's worried if she asks something else he might spill this time. Might never shut up.

Then he remembers.

“Hey. I got you something.”

“You did?”

He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. “I mean, it’s not a big deal. Just some cheap shit I found.”

Heather laughs. “Okay. That’s nice of you.”

“It’s uh-in the glovebox.” He gestures over to it.

“Oh.” She gives him a smile before she snaps open the compartment. A red envelope comes into view. She plucks it out. Turns it over, probably to check for her name. He didn’t bother with that.

“It’s pretty dumb.” He warns, anxiety flooding him as she lifts the envelope flap and takes out the card. “Like, don’t expect anything.”

He bought it from the dollar store. A small card with a little sunglasses-wearing penguin on the front wrapped in a big scarf. The penguin has a giant heart on his chest and a speech bubble above his head is saying-

“Stay _cool_, Valentine!” Heather giggles before she flips the card open, reading aloud the note he scribbled inside. “Heather, thanks for being such a cool chick.” She glances at him with a huge grin. Leans in close and gives him a tight one-armed hug, other hand still holding the smouldering cigarette. “You’re adorable.” She kisses his cheek. Billy’s glad its dark enough that she can’t see him blush.

He pats her back stiffly. “Just grabbed the first thing I saw.”

“That you got me anything at all is a pleasant surprise.”

“Uh. There’s more.”

“Really?”

He winces. “I got those like...stupid candy heart things with the dumbass sayings on them?”

Heather just squeezes him tighter. “Oh my god, you're too cute.” She releases him, looks over and spots the box of candy in the open glove box. Grabs it and places them on her lap. Pauses for a moment and then snatches his aviator sunglasses from the compartment as well.

She slides the dark sunglasses on. Leans back against the window as she perches the cigarette in her mouth. Leather jacket squeaking against the car seat. She looks like a kid playing dress up. “Am I the coolest Valentine you’ve ever had or what?”

Billy can’t suppress a laugh. “_Too_ cool. You're scaring me.”

She tries to blow a smoke ring and fails. Billy chuckles again. Leans over and kisses her, cupping her cheek. She gives a quiet moan against his lips and he deepens the kiss. Like if he can kiss her deep enough he could dissolve into her. Forget everything but this moment. 

“_Ow._” She stiffens under his mouth. She glances down to where cigarette ash has landed on her stockinged knee. Brushes it off with a frown.

“Gotta be careful with that, babe.” He steals the cigarette from her hand. Takes a long drag. Puts his mouth against hers and exhales the smoke slowly between her pink lips. He pulls back, smirking. “Seriously though, you shouldn’t be smoking.”

“You’re such a hypocrite.” She grins, breathing out a haze. Takes his sunglasses off and places them back in the glovebox.

“It’s my burden to smoke enough for the both of us." Billy leans back into his chair, rolls down his window and tosses the cigarette butt. 

“I got you something too.” Heather chirps.

Billy’s grateful that he actually bought her a gift now. What if all he had was the stupid dinner? It would be hard to live that down.

Heather reaches into her bag. Takes out a crimson, heart-shaped candy box and passes it to him. “It’s chocolate.”

“Fancy.” He lifts the red lid off. There’s a polaroid on top. A picture she took of both of them the weekend her parents went away. He has an arm around her. Both of them have big easy smiles, eyes glistening something real. Something joyful. She caught him in a good moment. He felt really free there. Best he’s felt in a long time. He gets that pang in his chest that's becoming too familiar. “You look good.”

“So do you." She gives his shoulder a gentle touch. "You look happy.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He grunts. He grabs a chocolate from the box and shoves it in his mouth, takes a couple of chews. It starts to melt, smooth and buttery. “Holy shit.” He mumbles, mouth full.

“You like it?”

“How much did you fucking pay-actually don’t tell me.” He swallows. “Jesus, that’s good.”

He grabs one of the chocolates and offers it to her. “I’ll trade you one of these for one of those shitty candy hearts.”

“Sure.” She opens the box in her lap. Digs into it and pulls a heart out at random. Billy gets butterflies when her doe eyes lock with his and she lays the little heart gently in his palm.

He glances down and sees the message on the small pink surface.

_I love you._

He stares at it for a moment, frozen still. Gets that fragile ache in his chest again before he places the candy on his tongue. He chews it to powder and it goes down sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ <3](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bb4FMn-IWEY)


	19. dirty mind.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy tries his hand at photography.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless, gratuitous smut and peak disgusting Billy ahead. You have been warned. I ain't playin'.

Billy’s annoyed.

He’s surrounded by bright white screens, sitting on a wooden stool. Heather’s fiddling with his hair. Adjusting his jean jacket collar. A blazing light is searing his right cheek.

“I’ve been sitting here for like an hour, Heath." He says testily. "-and for most of it you've just been poking me.”

“I just want this to look right. I only have so much film and I want to ace this project.”

“Over-achiever.” He mutters.

Heather smooths a stray hair behind his ear. “Trying is not overachieving.”

"You should try not trying sometime."

"Maybe you should try trying." She counters.

“I'm already trying to get laid through this dumbass project of yours.”

“You might want to try harder then.”

He smirks before he grabs her face with both hands. Yanks her down to him and plants a hard kiss on her mouth. She melts immediately, lets his tongue run over hers. He gives her bottom lip a subtle bite. Pulls back with a knowing look. “Nah, you’re easy as hell.”

Heather doesn't have a comeback, just smiles. Dazed. Maneuvers behind her camera that's sitting on a black tripod. “Now, remember. Just be natural. This is a natural look we’re going for here.”

“I’m being blinded by hot lights and my foot is falling asleep. Feels pretty unnatural.”

“Just pretend. Look behind my head.”

Billy scowls at her instead, arms crossed. The camera snaps. One, two, three times. He blinks at the third one.

“A few more and then we’re done.” She promises.

He gives an agitated sigh, trying to sit still. He's so bored. She's gone through a whole roll of film, now onto another. This stool is beyond uncomfortable at this point. His jeans are too tight. It's a bad combo.

“_Heather._” He whines as she tinkers with the camera. “My balls hurt.”

“Just one more.”

The camera snaps. Billy bolts up, makes a jagged beeline away from Heather's makeshift studio, blood rushing painfully into his foot.

“Thank you, Billy.”

"Yeah yeah, that's the last time you drag me into one of your dumb photography assignments." Billy slips past the screens to Heather’s bed nearby. Perfectly made. It’s different when she knows he’s coming over. “How long til your parents are back?”

They had skipped last two periods of school, hoping to have time to take pictures and hang out before he has to pretend he never existed. The more scarce Billy is, the easier it is for both of them.

“Like, two hours.”

“Good.”

Billy leans against her bedpost. Watches her fold up her tripod. She’s wearing a loose top that gapes open to show her thin lace bra as she bends over. It gives him an idea.

“Can I take a photo of _you_?”

Heather gives him a cautious look. “Alright, but be careful. This is a really expensive camera.”

“You don’t trust me for a fucking second?”

Heather walks over, hands the camera to him. “I’d say to that anyone. This is my baby.”

He snatches the device from her hands.“Like you wouldn’t be able to afford a hundred of these.”

“Just be careful, please.”

Billy puts his head through the strap, lifting the camera to his eye and looking through the viewfinder. To his surprise it focuses by itself. He snaps a quick shot of Heather's face. 

“Okay, can I have it back now?”

“Oh come on, you took a million of me.”

Heather folds her arms. “I’m running out of film.”

“Don’t look so pissed, baby.” He can’t help but notice how long and shapely her legs are under her red corduroy skirt. He snaps a shot of those as well.

A flood of dirty thoughts rush through Billy’s mind then. Scenarios that Billy suddenly itches to have a photo collection of. Heather bent over her bed. Heather with her legs spread. Heather with his dick in her mouth. He leers behind the lens. “Hey, why don’t you lift up your top a bit?”

She blushes. “Billy, my project’s on there. I’m gonna have to develop it at school.”

“Just develop them after school then...”

She gives him a coy look then reaches down. Flashes her belly. Tease.

“You know you gotta go higher than that.”

"You're a pervert." She slowly lifts the fabric past her bra. Can't hold back a wry smile.

“Actually…” Billy pauses. Licks his lips. “Why don’t you just take your top right off?”

“Billy, you’re being gross.” She lets her shirt fall back down.

“Come on. You’d be taking it off anyways, now i’m just documenting it.” He grins, teeth flashing. “For science.”

Heather gives a short laugh. “The science of what?”

“Tits, obviously. You could say I'm an expert in the field.”

Heather rolls her eyes, but she's lifting her top over her head, tossing it onto her bed. “Just one shot.”

Billy gets closer, lens peering down at her perky, lace covered breasts. He reaches his left finger out, hooks it over the edge of the sheer bra cup. Slowly exposes her pink nipple.

She takes a sharp breath. “Billy…”

“You’ve got real pretty tits.” He watches as the lens automatically adjusts so that her flesh comes into sharp view. He takes another picture. He has to admit, this is a fucking great camera.

She shivers as he runs his knuckle over her delicate areolae. Gives her nipple a gentle tweak before he lets the camera hang at his chest. He leans down to kiss her. She’s real turned on now. Her tongue glides soft over his. Wanting, inviting him deeper. There’s that intimate crackle of energy between them that’s always a little dangerous. A little vulnerable. A little out of control. Makes him think of a lightning strike or flashfire.

He bends down to her ear, voice low. “Take your bra off.” His hand moves from her breast to skim up her back and dip underneath the hooked closure.

Heather is still bashful, flushing red. “What if Jonathan comes in the darkroom after school while I’m developing these?”

His mouth skims down her neck, tongue stealing out for a taste. “I think you’re kinda into it. Getting caught.”

“I think that's more your thing.” She murmurs, sighing in pleasure as he cups the back of her head, presses more kisses down her sensitive skin.

“Just a few more. Come on.” He kisses her mouth. She’s loosening up, arms wrapping around his neck, letting his tongue play with her, guide her.

“Okay, but I’m going to regret this later.” She frets against his lips. "You're lucky you're just very...convincing."

“You’re a star, baby. You’re gonna shine.” He unclasps her bra, and slips the straps down her arms. It drops to the floor. Billy’s skin prickles with desire when her breasts come into full display.

He leans down and sucks her nipple hard into his mouth, releases it with a slick pop. Hears her delighted gasp. He pulls back, brings the camera to eye-level and takes a shot of his hand cupping her soft flesh.

“Sexy.” He murmurs, breathing heavy. Cock straining against his jeans. He’s really into this. Maybe too much. It feels so voyeuristic, his face half hidden, watching her through a small screen. He suddenly gets why Heather likes taking pictures. There’s a sense of control behind the camera. You’re there but you’re not. You can hide in plain sight. You can manipulate situations for a good shot. You can tell people what to do.

And they'll probably do it if you ask nicely enough.

“Wanna take off your skirt for me, baby?”

“You’re trying to get me naked.” She says, corner of her mouth twitching up.

“Yup.”

She emits a big sigh, grinning. A little exhilarated. “Fine. You have to develop them with me though. Help make sure nobody sees.”

“Deal.” He wraps his arms around her. Reaches down and unzips the back of her skirt. Smooths it down her thighs along with her stockings, and she steps out of them.

He's already getting distracted. Kneels in front of her. Lips grazing her cotton panties. Fingers moving the fabric aside before his tongue takes a long lick up the center of her. She makes a small sound of surprise. Her legs buckle. Releases a shuddering breath and clutches into his golden locks.

“Mmm. I don’t know if I can stand when you do that.”

“Try it for a little bit.” He mutters before his mouth eats her up again. A little sloppy, hungry. One hand grabbing onto her ass. She’s right though. Her legs quiver like a fawn every time he sucks at her clit. “You’re such a wimp.”

“Shut up.”

Billy stands slowly, gliding his hands up her legs, her hips. Spins her around to face her mattress. Wraps her hands around the bedpost. He backs up a few meters.

“Now. Stick your ass out.”

Heather bursts out a laugh, turning to face him. Leaning skeptically on the post, one hand on her hip. “Is this going to turn into full-on porn?”

Billy makes a face of mock offense. “This isn’t porn. This is _erotica_. We’re making art, baby. Real classy stuff. Now turn around and let’s see that ass.”

Heather gives him a sardonic look before turning back around. Holding onto the post and bending over, back arched.

_Damn_. Billy touches himself through his jeans for a moment. He’s super horny now. He takes a picture. Then another.

“I can hear you breathing from over here, you know." Heather snorts, head facing the floor. “Oh my god, why are you breathing so hard?” She breaks out into a fit of giggles.

“I’m not.”

“You’re like, panting.” She looks over her shoulder, gloating.

“Whatever. Don’t act like you’re not soaking your panties right now. I can fucking see it.” He likes this current view of her. Doe eyes and heart-shaped bottom all in one shot. “Keep your head like that.” The camera snaps again.

They're both completely naked and in her bed within minutes. He doesn't have to try anymore. She grabs the camera from him and tells him to go down on her. Apparently she wants a memento too.

She's flat on her back. Billy finishes what he started, eating her out. He makes a show of it. Blue gaze looking up lustily at her as the camera captures him. Makes her come all over his mouth. She’s such an easy lay once he gets her started. Too eager for words.

Billy spreads her knees wide, pressing her outer thighs into the bed. He’s sitting back on his heels. Leans over and pulls the camera from her hands. Takes a snapshot of her dripping between her open legs. He drags the tip of his dick over her clit. He likes how thick he looks against her glistening pussy. Takes a shot of that too.

“I’m on the pill now.” Heather murmurs out of nowhere.

Billy’s breath halts, eyebrows raising at her. “When did you..?”

“Like, two weeks ago. Rosita took me down to the clinic.”

He puts the camera down on the bed. “Shit.”

“I want you.” She reaches an arm out to him.

He’s already crawling over her, eyes hooded and carnal. “Want you too.”

He needs to be inside her. Feel her surrounding him. Holding him tight. He covers her with his body, pressing her into the mattress. Hand sliding up her hip, her waist, before smoothing over her palm. Fingers interlacing with hers. A wet open kiss, tongue and lips before he looks in her eyes, spellbound. The charge between them deepens, strengthens. 

He grips his cock and slides inside her. Slowly, deliberately. Letting her adjust, gazes still locked. Her Bambi eyes blink. Pretty lips part, tantalize. _Fuck. _Too pretty. Makes his spine tingle, his dick throb. He moves. She feels incredible. Satiny-wet. Warm, slippery vice around him. Coating him with every stroke.

“_Jesus._” He chuckles under his breath, a little flustered. He has to stop for a moment. Collect himself. He buries his mouth in her shoulder, before writhing his hips tight and controlled. Unhurried but precise. Every motion counts. She emits a dreamy moan. Spills husky gasps against his ear. So responsive.

He needs more. He grabs her legs, wraps his arms under her knees and forces her to take him deep. They both give a soft groan. The sensation is overwhelming. He tries to focus, not get carried away. It’s a challenge.

“You feel so good.” She whispers, light fingers running up his neck, his cheekbone. Twining in his hair. Her half-shut eyes rake over him like a caress. Like he’s precious. “You’re beautiful.”

His cock jerks within her. Heart fluttering. His body searing with heat. Their mouths meet in a raw kiss as his hips piston in smooth strokes. He’s grinding against her clit with each thrust. Every wet glide of his shaft pushes them further towards euphoria. After a few minutes she’s twitching around him. Close again. He can’t hold back anymore.

His hips snap forward, taking her off guard. She gives a muffled whine as he pummels into her. Obscene sounds fill the air. Headboard bashing against the wall. Honeyed flesh being pounded. Hot and messy. No mercy. He knows it's brutal. But she only moans encouragement. Wants more. Begs. She’s coming on his cock a moment later. Fingernails imbedding into his back, shuddering, whimpering. It’s so intense. He’s not far behind.

"Wanna come inside you." He rasps against her ear, one strong hand digging into the dark curls near her scalp. Movements sharp and violent. Her trembling legs still pinned. Helpless. "Wanna give you my come, baby."

“Mmyeah-” She nods, pleads. Almost sobs. Can't form words.

He kisses her dizzy and desperate. Hips bucking in a frenzied rhythm before he finally peaks.Low, gruff sounds leaving his lips.Thrusts slowing with his release. He rests his weight on top of her in a heap of exhaustion. Annihilated by bliss. He's still for a few moments. Wiped out.

But not wiped out enough that he’s not gonna take a picture of this.

He reaches over to his side, fingers wrapping around the camera. Mouth pressing to hers. A lazy, gentle kiss before lifting himself up. Looking down at her through the lens. He’s still hard, takes his cock and starts slowly pulling out, camera following the movement.

“Billy...” 

“This is a Kodak moment, baby.” The camera snaps as he’s half out of her. He pulls out completely. Groans as he sees a trickle of his come ooze slowly onto the bed. “Holy shit.”

The camera flashes. Makes a whirring sound. End of the roll. He lowers the lens with a sleazy smile.

“You’re the biggest pervert I’ve ever met.” Heather lightly smacks his arm, looking annoyed.

“Aw, you don’t wanna treasure this moment forever?” He coos, grabbing her hand, kissing her palm. “Come on, you wanna see these pics, don’t you?”

She grins sheepishly. "Okay, I'll admit I'm kinda curious.”

“Knew it. You’re just as bad, sweetheart.” He puts the camera back down, sinks himself onto her again. “That was awesome.”

“You know you’re gonna guard that darkroom door with your life, right?” She pokes at his chest.”I will kill you if anyone finds these pictures.”

"Death threats already?” Billy nudges his face into her neck and yawns. 

“I’m serious.”

“Fine. I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who comes near.”

“Well, now I'm worried.”

“Jesus, take a chill pill. It’s gonna be fine.” Billy murmurs. “Gotta say though. Wouldn’t mind if your little boyfriend saw you stretched around my cock.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“That Byers freak is way too into you. Hangin' around the darkroom after school, breathing down your neck, trying to get in your panties..."

“Um. That was _you,_ remember? And he’s just super into photography. He’s always in that class.”

“Yeah, waiting for his chance to pounce. Maybe he should get taught a lesson. Make sure he knows who this pussy belongs to.” He strokes between her legs. Her hips writhe up into his hand. “Make him feel bad about his pencil dick having to screw that bony priss.”

“_Billy._” Heather pushes his fingers away.“That’s so mean. I really like Nancy.”

“Doesn’t make her less of a priss.”

“You thought I was a priss.” Heather points out.

“I mean, you still kinda are." He goads. "I’m just training you out of it. You're a priss with potential."

She pushes at his chest. “Oh my god, Billy.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be my personal little slut in no time.” He purrs in her ear. “You’re practically there already.”

“Billy." She pouts, looking genuinely hurt. "Stop it."

“_Relax_. I’m just kidding, baby.” He wraps his arms around her in a tight hug, kisses her cheek. He’s getting sleepy. She’s real cozy. “Let's just stay like this for awhile.”

“I have to get up and like...wipe myself down."

"Mmm, fuck." He grinds his hips against her. "You have no idea how much that turns me on."

"Ew."

He holds her tighter, breath hot on her neck. "Yeah baby. Walking around with my come leaking out of you...why don't you put your panties back on and give them to me after you've made a mess? "

"Gross!” She tries to squirm out from underneath him.

He doesn’t budge. Beams wide instead. Watches her struggle under him to no avail. Chuckles as he pins her wrists next to her head, giving her an indecent kiss before letting her escape. 

"You're mean." She says as she starts towards the bathroom. Her face and chest are flushed pink.

"You're into it." He calls after her.

* * *

Billy’s lying under Heather's sheets now, still naked. Watching as she pulls on her stockings. Slips her top back over head, going braless this time. Billy doesn't think she should go through the trouble. He’s ready for round two.

“Um. By the way." She steps into her skirt, shimmies it up her legs."My birthday’s next week.”

“Well, shit." Billy drawls. "Big eighteen, huh?”

Her face lights up. "Yup. I'll be a real adult.”

"Weird how you’re older than me." Billy sits up halfway, resting on one elbow. “Then again, I’ve always had a thing for older women.”

Heather wrinkles her nose at him. 

“What date is your birthday?" He continues.

“The twenty-first.”

Fuck, that's just a few days away. And he's broke. Spent his last dollars on gas and cigarettes.

“Coulda told me sooner.” He grumbles.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to get me anything.”

“Yeah, you say that now. But if I don't you’ll secretly hold it against me and I'll feel like shit."

Heather shrugs. “You already took me out for Valentine’s Day.”

“You know that doesn’t count. You even paid for that meal, which by the way you shouldn't have done.”

“Honestly, it's fine. We could just go for a hike or something.”

“A hike?” Billy mutters doubtfully.

“Yeah, we’ve never really looked at the scenery around here before.”

“I”ll take it into consideration.” He won't. He doesn't give a shit about the scenery in this shitty town. Give him beaches or nothing.

“When’s _your_ birthday?” She asks.

“July twenty-first.”

“Huh." She perks up, smiling pretty. "Same date.”

“Yup.”

“So you’re a Cancer.”

Billy shoots her a look of pure cynicism. “You don’t actually believe that shit do you?”

“I dunno." She peers in the mirror by her vanity. Picks up a hairbrush and runs it through her dark tresses. "You seem like a moody crab to me.”

Billy ignores that dig. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“Pisces. I’m a dreamer.” 

Billy thinks of his mom then. Another dreamy fish. “Aren’t Pisces supposed to be big whiny crybabies?”

“Maybe.” She smirks. “I think you and I are compatible though. Both water signs. And we both like to swim.”

“I guess.”

Heather walks over to the bed. Sits down on the edge, close to him. Billy doesn't have to think. Just reaches out and strokes his knuckles down her forearm.

“So after my birthday..." She says carefully."Like a few weeks from now. There’s gonna be a thing at the country club.”

His touch retreats fast. “I dunno, Heath.”

“It would really mean a lot to me if you came." She clasps her hands together. "You told Daddy you were going to go and everything.”

“You know I don’t belong there.”

She looks so sad when he says that, eyes all empathetic. “I don’t either.”

“Yes, you do. You know what to do and say. You look the part. Have your family. I just look like an idiot.”

“You _don't_ look like an idiot. And I’ll be right there with you.” 

“Won’t help much.” He mumbles. "Those people are determined to fuck with me."

“Well. I won’t force you to go. But...just think about it." She says, tone gentle. "_Also_, Mrs. Harrington keeps asking about you.” She cuffs him in the arm.

Billy snorts. “That lady is nuts, I swear to god. Fucking cradle-robber.”

“I thought you were into older women.”

“I meant like-” Billy counts in his head. “Five months older.”

Heather lowers her voice a decibel. “You’ve got a lot to learn, young man.” She gets up on the bed and crawls on top of him. Straddles his waist, eyes flirting. Smile teasing.

“Damn.” Billy cups her butt, grinds up into her. Rock hard again. “I like that.”

Heather reaches over to her beside table. Opens the drawer and pulls out her Polaroid camera. Her face hides behind the lens as she points it at him. “Starting with, never taking pictures of your jizz with my camera again.”

“Oh come on.” He grins. "You loved it."

“Debatable.” The Polaroid flashes. Picture sliding out. “I liked posing and stuff though. That was kind of fun.”

“Yeah, I know you did. You’re a natural.”

“Really?”

“Like I said. You’re a star, baby.” He reaches out and takes her hand, curling his fingers through hers. Her skin soft and warm against his. “You shine real bright.”


	20. born to lose my breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy receives a letter. Heather turns eighteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Accidentally posted this chapter before it was ready. Whoops. Now it's actually ready. Enjoy!

It’s a quiet Thursday afternoon when Billy receives a letter he did not see coming for the life of him.

He’s sitting in the family living room,smoking and watching The A-Team when Susan hands the letter to him with a winsome look on her face, a little hopeful. Billy sees who it’s from and tears it open on the spot. Rips out the lined notebook paper scrawled on with dull pencil.

Billy,

I know we haven’t talked for over a year now. But this is just a letter to let you know that I’m back in California. I’m working at that autoshop you used to come in with your ma. Just like old times. Getting back in the swing of things after Margie left. I’m doing okay. Sun and engine grease helps.

So you’re out in the middle of nowhere now, huh? How’s that going for you? Hope you’re not too bored. You always were kinda wild. Could never stay still. Always had to be running around doing crazy stuff. Could never stay away from the babes or the beach. Find any cool ponds to “hang ten” in over there? Har har har.(I made a joke)

I’ve got an offer for you. Think you might like it. I’m guessing you might be coming back down to California when you’re done with your schooling. This coming autumn we are looking for a new mechanic. Now, I know you’re not certified or anything and still wet behind the ears, but you’ve always been into cars when you weren’t “catching waves” (see, i know the lingo.)

The boss says he’s willing to train someone if they’re keen. Thought of you right away. Figured you know enough to at least try it out. Figured you’re probably going to want a full-time job unless you’re going off to college. I don’t know if you’re planning on doing the higher education thing and all that but if you’re not...well, here’s your opportunity! You gotta let me know right quick though because you’re not the only hooligan out there that’s changed a tire before.

Anyways, hopefully this isn’t a bother. Just thought I’d put it out there. Think about it, and write me back asap. Or hey, even call. I know you’re not really one for phones though, They get you skittish, right? Or was that just anyone who isn’t a girl? You got a girlfriend yet? Farmers daughter or something?

Hope you’re finding some fun times out there.

Your old bud,

Uncle Garth

619-553-2919

P.S- Tell Neil to call or write sometime, dammit. We’re still brothers you know.

P.P.S- Heard Slayer went through Indianapolis. Did you see em’?

* * *

Heather and Billy are parked at the hilltop lookout at Lovers Lake, sitting on the hood of his Camaro. Billy watches as Heather pulls a long drag off a joint, her arm pressed into his for warmth. They’re taking in the ripe-red sunset travelling below the horizon, reflecting off the lake’s surface. A different shade every minute. A light show. Heather’s choice. She wanted a view for her birthday so she’s getting it.

Billy rolled the joint for her along with two more, now stowed in her purse. Tommy’s kush from his new dealer. It’s unexpectedly potent. Nearly took his breath away when he opened the bag. It’s about damn time.

“Look, Billy, swans!” Heather croons as two white birds make their graceful way towards the shore. “That’s rare, right? Is that a normal sight in Hawkins?”

“I have no fucking clue.”

“This birthday is really great so far.” Heather mumbles. Glass-eyed and dreamy. She hands the joint to him, haze exhaled to the glowing sky.

“Yeah, you liking eighteen?” Billy holds smoke in. Voice tight in his throat before he breathes out a thick puff. “Feel different?”

“Like...the same,” she snorts, words a meandering drip. She thinks for a moment. “Exactly the same.”

Billy hovers a hand over her scalp. “Didn’t grow an inch?”

“Hmm.” She sits up straighter, pressing into his palm. “Maybe...a quarter of an inch?”

“Impressive.” Billy chuckles. Flat of his hand smoothing a trail down the curve of her head. Top of her spine to the small of her back. Corner of his eye catches the hint of a brown rabbit before it’s swallowed by thicket.

“Yup.” Heather nods, goofy smile stamped on. Slowly blinking at him.

“You’re pretty baked, huh?” He scans his blurry eyes over her and grins. Takes another hit before the joint is slipped between her fingers again. His mouth drifts to her lips. Steals a soft kiss. Then another.

She gives a contented hum. ”Completely toasted.”

“Awesome.” He glances between her sleepy gaze and the deepening plum wash of light on water. He can’t tell which is the better view.

“You’re about the same though.”

“I’m feeling pretty good.” Billy smiles, exhaling a deep breath. Euphoria making him a little dizzy, approaching sensory overload. Numb fingers. Heady evergreen smell. Glittering lake. Bird chatter and the gentle lick of water on rock. Heather’s slender hip snug against his. “It’s nice up here. Never really noticed.”

“We’ve been here before.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like we were looking at the scenery.” Wry eyes tease hers as she hands him the blackened roach. He takes one last puff and chucks it into the wet grass. Lays back with a sigh, his skull rolling against hard glass. Heather joins him, slips her fingers through his. He’s cold, but she’s colder. He tucks both their hands in his jacket pocket.

The sky’s growing dark, stars gradually revealing themselves to the night. There’s a minute of deep calm. Their hands slowly warming in downy fabric. Heather shifts next to him.

“I’ve been thinking…,” she trails off. Squeezes his fingers. “Like, thinking a lot today.”

He scratches an itch on his neck. “Bout’ what?”

“I’m feeling really unsure about Harvard.” The words spill out in a nervous tumble. “Like I shouldn’t go.”

It’s not that shocking to him. He knew from the first moment she mentioned it. But he can tell by the way she’s crushing his fingers it’s a big fucking deal.

“Then don’t go.”

“It’s not that simple. I mean, I’ve already been accepted since December.”

“So?"

“I’ll get disowned,” she moans. “Daddy’ll murder me.”

“You’re eighteen now. You’ll be leaving the nest anyways, right?”

“There’s still like this shame about it, like I’d be letting everyone down. I’d be the black sheep of the family.”

“Welcome to the club, babe. You get used to it.”

“You don’t have that same type of pressure though.This has been planned for _years_. There’s _so_ much expectation. A lot of judgement.”

She has a point. His main worry is just getting a job. Survival. Though there’s always the image he has to maintain. Of being solid. Of being independent. Of being strong. He knows it’s a little different though. He doesn’t have a whole country club to impress.

“Maybe I don't," he admits. "But I’ll always be here if shit hits the fan.”

“You will?”

“Yeah. You can live in my closet if they kick you out,” he smirks.

She elbows him lightly. “Thanks.”

It’s pitch dark now. Stars twinkling bright. Lights of houses and roads in the distance. He can’t feel his toes but he doesn’t want to move.

“I got this letter yesterday from my uncle.” He mutters. “Offered me a job. Probably gonna take it.”

“Like a car-related type of job?”

“Yeah, at an autoshop in San Diego. Starts in the fall. He’s like this hippie dude or whatever. Hard to believe he’s related to my dad but we get along. He gives me free pot and stuff.”

“That’s really great, Billy.” Heather’s head curls into his shoulder.“That's what you wanted, right? California and a trade.”

He pauses. Doesn’t want to admit his excitement until it’s actually happening. “Yeah, I guess. Pretty much checks all the boxes.”

“I’m happy for you.”

His gaze drifts over to her. She’s smiling, wistful. Their eyes lock and he shifts even closer to her. Sometimes he can’t get close enough. Sometimes he wishes they’d completely blend into one. Be compacted so tight they’d share a body. It’s a little fucked up.

“You know…” Words are seeping out, bubbling to the surface. Eager to escape. “-if you ever wanted to visit...that’d be cool.”

Her face lights up. An easy smile. “I would love to.”

Warmth flows like a wave through his bones. Joy filling him up to bursting. Blurting. “Maybe you could ditch Harvard and come with me.”

Fuck. Immediate regret. Gone way too far. It’s the pot. The stars. Her eyes. He got caught up in the moment.

Her fingers tighten around his. “Really?”

He shrugs, bashful. Looking back into the night. Heartbeat in his ears. “I mean, if you wanted to.”

“I would love to see San Diego, but-”

“Yeah…,” he clears his throat. Never felt more awkward. “I dunno, it’s probably a dumb idea. Crazy.” He's not about to admit that he's been thinking about road-tripping down there with her for weeks.

“No, it’s not. I just-”

“-It’s like…uh.” Words are pushing against his lips. Feels like he’ll explode if he keeps them in. “It would really suck if we never saw each other again.”

Heather's reply is an arm wrapped fiercely around him. It’s a relief. Billy holds on with his other hand. Instant reflex.His thumb skims down her forearm.

“Just really like you,” he mumbles, more words spewing out. “Never liked anyone this much before.”

“Me neither.” Heather says softly.

His control is gone. He can’t shut up. “I don’t wanna lose you to some stupid university.”

“It’s not stupid, Billy," she counters gently.“A lot of people would kill to go to Harvard.”

“Buncha rich assholes with their noses in the air-” he scoffs. “-thinking they’re better because they’ve read a couple books.”

She burrows her head into his chest. “Maybe I could go to California during Spring Break or something?”

She’s backtracking, sights set on Harvard again. He exhales a frustrated breath. “I mean, yeah… I guess we could visit during your breaks and stuff.”

“It's probably the most realistic plan.” Her voice cracks, wavers.

“I think I’ll go nuts not being able to see you though.” He confesses, floodgates now open wide.

Heather’s clutching him so hard he can’t breathe. “I feel the same way.”

“Don’t go then.”

“I dont know…,” she sniffles, one hand wiping at her face. Fuck, is she crying?

“California kicks New York’s ass any day of the week.”

“Harvard’s in Massachusetts, Billy.”

“Even worse.”

“Billy.” Her fingers clench anxiously into his side. "I'm just not sure if running away is the right answer either."

His mouth is dry as ash. Can barely swallow down the disappointment. He’s not sure what he expected. He's so stupid.

“It’s alright. I get it.” He forces himself to tamp down the bile-like misery that’s rising in him. “This is real life shit. Gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Real life sucks.” She gulps as a sudden sob wracks her. It takes him off guard. Sounds strangled with pain.

He removes their hands from his pocket, twines both his arms around her on instinct. It’s stiff and uncomfortable on the cold metal, but she molds to him. Soft and pliant. Tears muffled against his jacket. 

“I just want to do the right thing. But...I also just want to take pictures. It's all I've wanted for a long time." She gives a strained laugh, fingers coming up to wipe the moisture streaming from her eyes. “I’m losing it. I’m sorry.”

He doesn't really get how those two choices are mutually exclusive.

“It’s okay,” he breathes against her hair. Tries to comfort her. It’s a little less weird than the last time, when she was tripping. Just a little. He’s still scrambling for the right words. “And whatever happens, you can always take pictures. If you go to Harvard you can mail them to me.”

“I don’t want to go.” He can’t tell whether she’s laughing or crying anymore. Quivering under his hands. Tone desperate, throaty. Each word a spasming breath. “But Harvard would be me doing my best, right? Daddy always says I have to do my best.”

Something about the way she says that last sentence like she’s five rubs Billy the wrong way.

“Hey,” His palm strokes down her back. “Enjoy your fucking birthday, babe. Don’t worry about this shit til you have to.”

“Okay,” she nods, voice still shaky. “You’re right.”

He holds her for awhile, watching the stars, tense with anxiety. He spots the bigger, vibrant light that Max says is Venus. Seeing it calms him down a bit. Soothes him. Makes him feel small in a good way. Heather’s shuddering breath eventually slows and her body relaxes in his arms.

“Billy," her tone is sweet and sad against his ear. Goosebumps rise up his neck, prickle down his spine. “I really care about you. So much.”

He melts right then and there. Goes breathless and hot in his jacket. A tinge of panic before he opens his mouth. “I...really care about you too.”

She leans in for a kiss. Lips parting.Tongue gliding at a sensual angle on his. A sultry ache in the movement. Makes his heart sick. He knows they still have months but it feels too close to the end. To disintegration. Already hurts like a bitch.Their kisses grow more anguished, deeper. Small gasps for air between each press of lips. He feels like he might combust.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs. Soft, yearning. His thumb catches a tear, smooths it away. “Just come to San Diego."

She goes so _quiet_.

Billy wishes he could travel back ten minutes and tape his mouth shut. It’s too late now though. He’s lost his way. Slipped into ether. Can’t find the thread back to solid ground.

Her eyes are now barely visible in shadow. Dark lakes flooding over. “I’m sorry...I’m just really confused.”

His face goes stony. Jaw tight. "Okay.”

“And really high,” she gives him a weak smile. “This is a lot. I’m kind of overwhelmed.”

His hands fall from her skin, gaze shifting away. “It’s cool. Let’s just drop it.”

“I’m really happy you took me here though,” she rushes to ease him, arms wrapping tight around his torso. “It means a lot to me.”

“It’s been nice.” Billy says gravely, wanting to shrivel up and die.

He stares into the ebony sky above. Imagines being sucked into it. Swallowed whole. He tries to center himself before speaking again. He decides to play it casual, forget anything happened. It takes everything he has.

“Made you something,” He fishes in his left pocket, pulls out a clear cassette and hands it to her, voice rigid. “Happy Birthday.”

“Aw, a mixtape!” She tenderly takes it from his fingers. “Thank you.”

“Did my best to make it sound like robots.” A reluctant grin teases at his lips. “As much synth as possible. Well,as much as I could stand.”

“That’s so nice of you,” she coos, probably over enthusiastic for what it’s worth.

“There’s like a couple harder tracks but I think you’ll like them. Slower, more melodic kinda stuff.”

“I love it.”

“Wait til you listen before you say that,” he cautions. “Could be total shit.”

“You made it though so no matter what I love it. Also, no one’s ever made me one before.”

“That's cause’ you’ve only been with rich dudes.” Billy drawls. “They probably bought you jewellery and shit.”

“This is way better than that,” she promises. “This actually takes effort. I’ve always wanted one, honestly.”

He’s still not sure if he believes her but he’ll take it. He’s tired of feeling guilty for not having enough. For not being enough.

“Well, let me know what you think later, I guess.”

She kisses his cheek. “I can already tell it’s a winner.” 

* * *

Billy parks his car on the side of the road in front of Heather’s mansion. Typical routine. They’re both still kind of stoned, but nowhere near the intensity at Lovers Lake.

“Thanks so much for taking me to the lookout.” Heather trills, taking off her seatbelt. “And for the pot. And the mixtape.”

Billy’s somewhere else. He’s been that way the whole ride here. Hasn’t stopped feeling regret. Full of remorse for all he said tonight. Can’t stop obsessing about every word he let slip.

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” he grunts, opening his jacket and plucking out a cigarette. Flame to paper distracting him momentarily from his humiliation.

“Hey…” She gives his arm a soothing caress.“Do you think you could come in for a bit? I kinda think you should say hi to Daddy again. He’s getting suspicious. It's been awhile.”

Smoke shoots from Billy's nostrils. He gives her a hard look. “You’ve never had to see my parents.”

“I want to though. I’m waiting for you to invite me.”

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel. Doesn’t want to turn her down on her birthday despite his intense dread. Fuck,why is he getting so nice? “Fine. Just for like a second though. Not really in the mood to get torn a new one.”

“It’ll be okay.”

That’s what she said the last time. It was definitely not okay.

When they’re at the front of her house, Billy tosses his cigarette as Heather knocks gently on the white door.

“Forgot my key,” she explains.

It’s a little comforting that Heather’s family keeps their doors locked at all times too. Neil is a drill sergeant about it. Doesn’t trust anybody, no matter where they live. Good or bad neighborhood. Day or night. Billy always locks the door. He knows the consequences if he forgets.

They wait for someone to let them in, Billy’s mind racing, agonizing. Heather glances down at his shoulder.

“Look, Billy! You’ve got a friend!”

“Huh?” He looks down. There’s a ladybug crawling down his arm. Shiny brick-red wings flicker for a brief moment before retracting.

“Aw, let me see her, she’s so cute.” Heather gushes, leaning over to look.

“I’d rather you took it off me.” Billy grumbles. “And how do you know it’s a_ her_?”

“It just feels weird calling ladybugs a him.” Heather offers her forefinger to the teeny insect. “Aren’t you supposed to be hibernating?”The ladybug latches on, then flies away.

The door opens. It’s Rosita. Gleaming with perspiration, a dish towel slung over her shoulder.

“Beel-ee!” She crows, wearing a big smile.

“Hey Rosita.” Billy winces as she pinches his cheek. She has a way of making him feel three years old. It would be more annoying if she wasn’t so likeable. His grandmother on his dad’s side was dead by the time he was born. The other one wasn’t ideal. Used to scream at him for leaving lights on or mucking up her carpet. Rosita’s like what every Grandma _should _be. Strong and kind.

She really pinches hard though. Damn. He rubs his cheek, still smarting.

“_Hermoso_. Come in, come in.” Rosita beckons, waddles inside. They both follow after her.

Heather takes off her shoes. He keeps his on. He’s ready to bolt in the other direction any second.He’s more stoned and paranoid than he’d like to be for this. He’s actually trembling a bit. Heart vibrating.

“Ah, mida.” Rosita squints. Grabs his arm to turn him slightly and look at his back. “Una mariquita!”

“Billy, ladybugs love you!” Heather laughs. Peeks at the tiny creature.

“What the fuck.” Billy mutters as he looks over his shoulder. Rosita raises her brows at him. “I mean uh-”

“I love this so much.” Heather gathers the ladybug on her finger, starts talking to it. “You hitching a ride, little friend?”

“I’d appreciate it if you left your critters at home, Billy-boy.” A smooth voice says from behind him. Billy spins around so fast he nearly snaps his neck.

Mr. Holloway. He’s dressed like fucking Hugh Hefner and leaning against the living room doorframe. Looking at Billy like he’s a chained dog he’d love to beat.

“Uh.” Billy swallows, palms clammy. Attempting his best poker-face. “I’ll try to remember next time.”

Mr.Holloway glances at Heather who's still inspecting the spotted bug, entranced. She’s definitely higher than Billy is. "And if it isn't the birthday girl."

"Hi, Daddy." Heather doesn’t look up, carefully moves towards the front door, watching her finger. “I’m going to free her.”

“So _Billy_.” Mr. Holloway hums his name like he’s trying to taste it. Grimaces after like it’s sour. “Long time no see, huh?” He says everything too kindly. Laced with a malice that’s too obvious. “Don’t tell me I scared you away.”

“Nope.” Billy says fast, pupils darting towards Heather as she opens the door to release the ladybug outside. Maintaining eye contact with Mr. Holloway feels like a massive undertaking right now. He decides to watch the point between Mr. Holloway’s eyebrows. Hopes it’s not noticeable.

“Heather says you’re coming to the country club next month for our charity Gala. And I must say I’m impressed.” Mr. Holloway purrs, mocking timbre never wavering. “I do like a guy that keeps his word.”

Shit. Why did she say that? He never really made up his mind about it yet. Though it seems more and more like he made a deal with the devil the moment Mr.Holloway asked him if he wore his girlfriend’s jeans. Destiny wants him to go. No escape from the tyrant.

“Well, you know me, sir.” Billy shrugs. “My word is my bond.”

“I’d know you more, if you actually showed your face now and then. Didn’t hide away like a _coward_.”

Classic. Billy was ready for that last comment. Though it’s already getting old. Lame. Doesn’t pack quite the same punch now. Billy’s disappointed. He thought Mr. Holloway was more original than that. Neil could give this guy a few pointers on psychological warfare.

“Well, looks like your dreams are about to come true.” He offers a sharp smirk. “Picking out my polo sweater already.”

“Look at you.” Mr. Holloway gives a lethal grin in turn. “Never thought you’d come this far.”

“You have no idea, sir.” Billy glances at Heather coming back inside, sidling up next to him. “Welp. Guess I’d better be hitting the road then.”

“You’re not going to stay for dinner?” Mr. Holloway inquires. Billy assumes he wants to keep him around to torture.

“Wish I could but my stepmom’s making meatloaf. Can’t miss it.” Billy lies. Susan has her book club meeting tonight and will probably leave them something in a frozen box to microwave.

“Well, thats just too bad.” Mr. Holloway tuts, beginning his retreat back into the living room. “Well. I’ll see you at the Gala then.”

“Yup.” Billy mutters.

“Oh, and Billy.” Mr. Holloway offers him one last mean once-over. “Dress sharp this time.” He disappears into the shadows a moment later. Creepy.

Billy needs to get the fuck out of this place. He drapes a casual arm around Heather for a half-assed hug.

“Happy Birthday. See ya.” His hand is already on the doorknob, itching for escape. From this house, from The Holloways, from his impulsive words tonight still haunting him. Heather yanks him back by the shoulder.

“Wait,” she protests,“-don’t leave without a cupcake.”

“A cupcake?” Billy echoes dryly, distressed that he’s still here.

“Rosita made them for me. Don’t move a muscle!” She dashes away before he can gripe. Billy leans back against the door, exasperated, watching her dart to the kitchen.

Rosita is still lingering in the front entrance. Observing them. Observing him. She inches closer to Billy, lowers her voice, serious. “You are good to Miss Holloway?”

If he’s being real, he’s never been this good to any chick in his life. It’s kind of a problem. He doesn’t recognize himself half the time. Doesn’t know who he is anymore.

Billy bites the inside of his cheek, expressionless. “Good enough.”

She pauses, a warm grin slowly spreading as she studies his face. “You love her?”

Billy’s hazy eyes snap open. “_What._”

Rosita bursts out laughing, “Tan lindo.” She mutters something else in Spanish he can’t discern. Ruffles his hair before departing into a different room, leaving him red-faced and spiralling.

Heather returns in a rush. Skids in her socks across marble in the last meter and almost crashes into him. Hand clutching to him for balance.

“Here. I got you the nicest one.” She places an impeccable looking cupcake in his hand. Pink frosting perfectly swirled. White sprinkles perfectly dispersed. Rosita’s got some serious skills. He’s envious. Nobody in his family really bakes much. His mom used to.

“Thanks.” He opens the front door again, steps through without even looking back.

“_Hey_.” Heather comes after him, grabs his hand. Pulls him close. 

Billy’s struggling to look at her straight on. Afraid if he does he’ll reveal how fucked up he feels inside. She doesn’t say anything though. Doesn’t ask any more of him. Just wraps her arms around his shoulders and gives him a tender kiss.

He gives in. Second nature. That heat between them firing up even as he wishes he could just disappear. He wants her. He wants to be alone. He’s so mixed up.

She pulls away, gives her signature sweet smile. “Goodnight, Billy.”

He draws her back to him. Holds her tight and leans in for more.

* * *

Being alone doesn’t provide much solace. He sits paralyzed in his car, still parked on Chestnut Drive. Unmoving. Pretty cupcake untasted in his hand. Thinking of the stupid Gala. Of every dumb thing he said tonight that he can’t take back. Rosita’s ominous question. The whole thing’s a goddamn disaster.

_Do you love her?_

The question replays in his mind over and over. Carves into him like a scalpel. He’s afraid to know the answer. Afraid he already knows it. He doesn’t like how his heart quickens at the four-lettered word.

If there's one thing Billy knows for sure about love, it's that it bleeds you dry. Ends in pain and suffering. Love something and it’s destined to rot or crumble, fade to dust. That’s just the way the world works. It’s a universal law, like inertia. Like gravity. Love nothing and be free from damage. Love nothing and save yourself a world of agony.

Though, he’s in agony as it is.

_Do you love her?_

He feels a tickle on his wrist. A gentle prod. He glances down.

“The fuck?”

Another ladybug.

Billy rolls his window down, bewildered. His hand drifts outside and the tiny creature flutters into star-lit darkness.


	21. undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy begins to unravel.

Billy’s in a bad mood.

The night after Heather’s birthday, Billy sits in the empty bleachers of the Hawkins High pool for a rare weekend swim practice. Very last row. One foot on the bench in front of him. Flicking his shiny zippo lighter open and closed, watching as Heather swims laps.

Tonight is special. Right after this, Heather’s throwing a belated birthday bash at Carol’s place. Parents gone for the weekend. Big house. Everyone’s going to be there. Should be a blast.

But...Billy doesn’t want to go. He’s under a black cloud, still resentful towards Heather for making him look like a fool. Making him weak and stupid. He doesn’t want to party with her. He doesn’t want to be _here_ either, stuck in the stands, nothing to do.

Most of the time Billy uses this hour to waste time in the library. Or smoke in his car. It's painful to just sit and watch other people do what he loves. Sometimes he’ll swim some laps right at the end, when everyone’s leaving but can still see him. Sometimes their weathered coach catches him and yells _either join the team or get your ass back in the stands, Hargrove! _The coach is pissed that Billy never joined when he’s undeniably a quality swimmer. He could take their team to new heights. Make them champions.

It’s not gonna happen. Billy likes being wanted and never giving in. Likes showing off and never having to commit. Just as long as everyone knows he’s the best. A star. That’s all that really matters to him. Being seen.

The practices Billy makes sure he never misses are the days when the boys’ and girls’ teams swim together. When _Steve _swims. Tonight is one of those nights. Billy zones in on Steve like a hawk, especially when he’s anywhere near Heather. Apparently they’re on good terms. Friends. Billy hates it. Wishes Heather hated Steve as much as he does. Billy’s aware it’s not a healthy way to look at the situation, but he doesn’t trust anyone but himself. Actually, he barely trusts himself as it is.

So now he sits and watches. Watches Heather’s smooth, clean strokes. Her great form. Slick front crawl. She could probably work on her butterfly, but he won’t tell her that.

Practice ends and the swimmers slowly disperse until there’s only a few left in the changing rooms. The coach is gone for the night. Billy snaps his Zippo open and lights a cigarette in the stands. Leans back and watches smoke ghost towards the ceiling. Heather emerges from the girls’ locker room. She’s wearing a nice dress for tonight’s party, coat folded under her arm. Sparkling. Periwinkle. Pretty. She saunters up the bleacher steps towards him.

“Bored yet?” she asks. Her hair isn’t fully dry, drips onto her shoulders. She didn’t wear a swim cap this practice. A bead of water trickles towards her breast, soaks the blue fabric. She’s not wearing a bra either.

Billy rakes his gaze over her and shrugs vaguely. Forcing his sight towards the pool. Mute. He hasn’t been too nice to her today. Doesn’t want to talk. He can barely look her in the eye after last night. He was thinking of ditching her today. Abandoning her. Telling her to take her bike. The weather’s warming up anyways. She doesn’t need him anymore.

Heather gives him a critical overview, one eyebrow raised. Billy keeps smoking, staring at the still water behind her.

Then Billy sees Steve passing in front of the bleachers, that stupid mop of hair slicked back on his giant head. Steve spots Heather and cups a hand around his mouth. “See you tonight!” He acts like Billy isn’t even there, invisible. A nobody. It’s a dumb move. Steve should know better by now.

Heather turns to look and Steve waves. She offers a short wave in return and Steve leaves through the back door.

Billy doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like that one bit. He gives Heather a sharp glance. Takes a long drag before he points his cigarette at her. An accusation. “You invited him?”

Heather’s just as sharp back. “I invited the entire swim team. It would be kind of weird if I left him out.”

“Right,” Billy snorts. Oozing venom. “Course’ it would.”

Heather grabs her purse from beside him and hauls it over one shoulder. “I knew you’d do this.”

“Do what?”

“Be so…controlling.”

Billy’s nostrils flare. “I didn’t fucking say anything.”’

“Your attitude says everything.”

He takes another deep pull of smoke, throat searing. “Just seems like he’s always around.”

“He’s not. We’re just on the swim team together. He’s just a friend.”

“Just a friend that wants to fuck.”

Heather throws up her hands, exasperated. “Don’t start this again, Billy. Please. I seriously can’t.”

Billy huffs out the last of his cigarette. Stands up and pushes past Heather like she’s nothing, casually making his way down the bleacher steps. He flicks his stub in the pool and heads straight for the exit. Hears Heather call after him but he’s already out the door.

*

“You’re driving too fast.”

Heather’s sitting, perched in Billy’s passenger seat on the road to Carol’s place. She’s putting as much space between them as possible, leaning towards her window. Arms crossed like a shield. Another lit cigarette dangles from Billy’s mouth, his last one. He smoked through an entire pack today and he’s going to need more sooner than later. He’s not sure he’ll make it through the night otherwise.

“I always drive this fast,” he mutters, left hand choking the wheel. Right fist clenched at his thigh.

“I know,” she snips. “You’re going to get us both killed one day.”

That garners a quick glare from him. “Jesus, Heather. Way to wait three fucking months to speak up.” He says her name like it’s a problem, a poison. He doesn’t slow down.

“Maybe I was afraid you were going to react the way you are now.”

“Afraid?”

“Yeah, afraid. You can be really intense. You get defensive. And like, really _mean._”

Billy’s used to that word. People throw it at him all the time. Billy _knows_ he's a mean person, doesn’t need a reminder. He especially hates Heather saying it. Hates her saying she’s afraid of him. Makes him feel ashamed. As if he doesn’t feel shitty enough already.

“Fine.” His foot eases on the pedal. “Happy now?”

“Thank you.”

There’s a harsh press of silence, tight as a wire. Carol’s house is too far away. Seconds feel like hours. Billy turns the volume up on the radio. Station set to bubblegum pop and new wave synth. They always listen to it now because he doesn’t want his music to give Heather a bad acid flashback. Now they have to listen to Cyndi Lauper bleat endlessly about time after time or whatever the fuck. It’s hardly any better than the strained quiet.

Heather shifts towards him, seeks eye contact he won’t return. “I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

Billy taps ash out his slivered-open window. Plays dumb. “Like what?”

“You’re clearly mad at me. You’ve been acting weird all night.”

He won’t give her the full reason, won’t let her know he’s crushed. Half the truth will do. “Maybe I’m not looking forward to hanging out with your little pool buddy. Seemed real chummy back there. Real friendly.”

“I never even talk to Steve outside of practice.” Heather’s fingers are at her temples like she has a headache. “Not since we started going out. How is that not enough? What am I supposed to do? Pretend he doesn’t exist? You and I are together _constantly_ and you know you’re like my only real friend in Hawkins. What more do you want?”

“Well, that’s depressing.” Billy says. “Not my fault you’re too stuck up to make any friends.”

That sets her off. She's in his face now. “And who are_ your _friends? Tommy? You don’t even like him.”

“Don’t have to like my friends to have 'em’.”

“Well, if the bar’s that low then I have lots of friends."

“Good for you.”

“Why do you hate Steve so much anyways?”

“How do you _not_ hate him?” Billy counters. “That asshole’s smug face is all the reason I need."

“There’s more though.” Heather says carefully. Like she’s treading dangerous ground. “I know you guys have a history”

Billy gets antsy at that suggestion. Wishes she’d shut up. “We don’t have shit.”

Heather pauses, vacillates. She’s going to say something risky. Something he doesn’t like. He can just feel it.

“I know about the fight.”

Exactly what Billy didn’t want to hear. He goes tense all over. His blood burns with a new layer of shame, even deeper. More wretched. Twists in his gut. “So you don’t live under a rock. Congrats.”

“It’s like...the first thing I ever heard about you.”

“Not surprised.”

“He lost though. Badly. What more do you have to hold against him?”

It takes a while for Billy to form the words. He loathes talking about this. “He got me kicked off the basketball team. They were gonna make me point guard before he was a pansy bitch and tattled. Stole my position right from under me and the guy can’t even fuckin’ dribble.”

Heather has no sympathy. “You beat him within an inch of his life. What did you expect?”

Rage blinds him. Suffocates. He hates the prissy, know-it-all vibe she’s throwing at him. “My stepsister went missing, and he had her and three other kids in some creepy house in the middle of nowhere. I was supposed to think that’s okay?”

“They were just playing Dungeons and Dragons,” Heather points out.

Billy admittedly wasn’t sober when he arrived at the scene. Was already in a bad mood before he started drinking. Only made worse when Neil shoved him into a wall and humiliated him in front of Susan. “Doesn’t matter. It’s fucked up. Like, who hangs out with little kids?”

“Billy. He was asked to babysit by Jonathan’s mom. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Like he doesn’t know that now. Like he hasn’t replayed that night thousands of times in his head. Thought of every alternate scenario, everything he should have done differently. How he should have been sober. How he could have assessed the situation, picked Max up and driven straight home. It could have been easy.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda. Too late now. Billy still has a crick in his neck from the beating Neil gave him when he found out about it. Hurt worse than the actual fight. “Yeah, kinda got the lowdown after it happened, but thanks for rehashing that shit.”

Heather’s giving him that haughty princess tone that drives him up the fucking wall. Nails on a chalkboard. “Honestly, I wasn’t going to go out with you because of it.”

“Well, aren’t you _precious_?” Billy croons. Steeped in bitterness. “Such a good little martyr, lowering yourself to be with me. I’m fucking honored.”

“I’m not lowering myself. I’m concerned. Worried. Especially after you did it again at the concert.”

Billy cackles. Automatic thing he does when he’s cornered. “Shit, is this a fucking lecture? Are you lecturing me?”

“I’m not lectu-” Heather reaches to touch his hand but he grabs her wrist. Forces it back in her lap. Keeps it there and squeezes to the bone.

“-if I’m such a goddamn disaster why are you even with me? You were the one who hunted _me _down. Don’t act so high and mighty now, princess.”

Heather wrenches her arm away from him. “I knew there was more to you than what happened. And I just like being with you. I shouldn’t have to explain why.”

Actually, she should have to explain and it pisses Billy off that she won’t. Like she doesn’t even know why she likes him. “So you just wanted to fuck me, huh?”

"No."

"Don’t fucking lie."

“I mean, it’s not like I didn’t want to, obviously. But it’s not like you didn’t want to fuck me too. And _you_ were the one that wanted things to be casual, remember? Not me.”

Billy’s not paying attention. All he sees is blinding red.“So now that you’ve gotten all that good fucking out of your system, you’re looking for an out. Bet you’re eyeing all those country club fuckheads already. Got your bad-boy fix and want some rich dick now, don’t you?”

“Billy, stop. Just _stop_. You’re being super irrational right now.”

She’s talking to him like he’s a surly child. Like he’s throwing a tantrum in the supermarket and she’s his sensible mother that keeps her voice low. It’s infuriating. He wants to break her composure. Make her mad enough to hit him. Scream at him. It’s all he wants from anyone when he’s angry; something he can sink his teeth into. She's too pure and righteous right now. Floating above him, unreachable. He wants to drag her down to hell where he can taste her.

“Come on, _sweetheart_,” he goads. “You’re obviously full of secrets. Things you wanna preach to me, say about me, how shitty you think I am. Must be real stressful to keep that all inside. Spit it out. I can handle it.”

“No. You’re looking for a fight. And I’m not going to, so stop it.”

“Oh, we’re not fighting, baby. We’re just having a conversation.”

The car edges towards Carol’s house. The place is blasting bad pop music. Bass pumping. Driveway full. Cars parked on the lawn.

Heather raises her voice and it does that little crack that happens when she’s holding back tears. He hates that after only a few months he knows it so well. “Billy, seriously. I don’t want to be sucked into this right before the party. You’re acting really weird. You’re freaking me out.”

Billy has to force his lips shut. It takes profound effort to not keep going. He’s feeling close to exploding. Raw and red and bloodthirsty. Scarlet rage all the way down to his core. What's worse is he likes it. Likes how it makes everything so viscerally alive. It’s grotesque and he knows it. He can’t let it go. He never could.

He glances at Heather before he revs the engine and screeches next to the front lawn, slamming his breaks just to fuck with her, lurching to a brutal stop. Heather fumbles with her seatbelt and bolts out the car, wrenching the door shut behind her. She storms towards the party and leaves Billy seething behind the wheel.

He can’t go in there right away. He’s too fucking pissed. At her, at himself, at everything. He’s not even sure where the rage is stemming from at this point. He just wants to burn in it, stew in it. Be the eye of the storm. The center of a swirling blackhole.

*

Inside of the place is bonkers. Packed to the brim. There’s vomit in one corner of the living room, people playing beer pong in the other. Everyone’s here to get smashed and he doesn’t recognize the majority. The party has nothing to do with Heather by now. He can’t help but wonder where she is. He won’t admit that to himself though. He’s going to get drunk. He won’t go after her.

He wants to, but he won’t.

He manages to get his hands on some whiskey from Tommy. Obviously him and Carol are back together again. They don’t hang around for too long though. Right after Tommy slips Billy the bottle, they’re off to go fuck in Carol’s parents room. Two peas in a drunken, horny pod. Disgusting. Billy swigs back a huge gulp of scalding liquor. Can’t wait to go numb.

Billy doesn’t know what to do. He wanders aimlessly, looking for someone he knows. A cute drunk girl with long blonde hair comes up to him and asks for a hug. He gives it to her. Tells her she looks pretty enough to eat. He looks around to see if Heather’s watching, wonders how she’d react. Wonders how jealous she really gets. He lets the blonde go. She doesn’t fit in his arms like Heather does. Doesn’t smell like roses and vanilla.

Another swig. A pleasant numbness in his body. Takes the edge off the night. He’s feeling kind of good now. Joins in a game of beer pong and destroys it. But he keeps wondering where Heather is. Not here. She’s avoiding him.

The night gets darker, deeper, dangerous. His gait is a bit off. He’s chuckling at stupid shit. Then he spots something that he knows will take the night exactly where he wants it to go.

Beer Keg. Middle of lawn. Untouched. Crowd of people standing around it, ready for a show. He wants to give it to them. Wants to keep his crown.

Not long after, he’s being held up by two innocent bystanders that he roped in. He’s chugging down bitter amber fluid. He’s forgetting everything but the moment because if he doesn’t focus he’s going to spew it out everywhere.

He’s set back down on his feet. He beat his previous time from last Halloween. Victorious. Still the Keg King, still a winner. It...doesn’t feel as good as the last time.

He’s still glancing around to see if Heather’s near. She’s nowhere in sight.

*

The rest is a blur. A collection of scattered images. Steve shoved into a wall. Heather’s distressed face. Fabric of her dress bunched in his hand. Their skin touching, hot and sweaty. Random arms gripping him. Pulling him backwards. Then darkness, fade to black.

He wakes up sprawled on his bed, head aching, heart pounding. Nauseous. Tongue thick and acidic, skin cold as ice. His eyes crack open. His curtains are flapping in the freezing wind. He's shirtless, only wearing his jeans.

Last night is a complete wash. A foggy dream. A pit of worry lies sour in his stomach. He knows whatever happened isn’t good.

He gets the urge to call Heather. A very powerful urge. Like, if he doesn’t, he’s in deep shit. He probably already is.

He squints at his alarm clock. Seven in the morning. Early still. Neil and Susan aren’t up yet, but Heather might be. He’s not sure if she drank or not. He gets up. Leaves his room and walks to the back window of the house. Camaro’s in the driveway, parked sloppily but looks fine.

He goes into the kitchen and greedily drains a tall glass of water. Then he picks up the phone and dials Heather's number. Prays either she or Rosita picks up.

Heather answers the phone after half a ring. “Hello?”

Billy lets the air he was holding in his throat out, relieved. “Hey, it's me. Uh. How did the rest of last night go?”

There's a telling pause. His heart sinks.

“You don’t remember.”

“Not really. Kinda remember like, the keg stand. Did we...fuck or something? I remember touching you." He hopes it was that simple. He doesn’t mention Steve or the random hands on him. Maybe it’s somehow not significant. A naive hope.

He can practically hear her implode.

“No, Billy,” she snaps, “You cornered Steve and threatened to kill him. And then when I tried to stop you, you grabbed me by the collar and called me a bitch and a whore. I thought you were going to hit me."

It’s like someone plunged him in ice water. All he feels is stinging cold.

“Shit," he breathes, another wave of nausea hitting him. "Fuck, Heather, I'm so sorry."

“Tommy and Jonathan managed to tackle you before you could hurt anybody. But then you shoved them off and drove home completely wasted. Which really is the worst part.”

“I'm sorry.”

“You could have killed someone or yourself. I don’t even want to talk to you right now.”

Billy can’t blame her. He despises himself so much in this moment, it's physically painful.

“I’m really sorry, Heath. I don't know what to fuckin’ say. I feel like shit."

“Billy,” she begins, “there’s this side of you that comes out sometimes that really scares the hell out of me. And it’s...I dunno, I'm really conflicted about us right now."

“I won’t do it again. I swear to God. It's the booze. You know I would never do that to you sober."

There’s a long exhale from her. "I don't know. I just- Billy. I’m mad at you. I’m really, really mad."

Billy can hear Neil getting up. Heavy footsteps. Bathroom faucet running. Billy massages his scalp with one hand. His head is swimming, throbbing. He lowers his voice so Neil can't hear him.“I really care about you, 'Heath. I meant that when I said it. I'm sorry. I'm really fucking sorry. Let me make it up to you."

The line goes silent. He wonders if he sounds sleazy, manipulative. A mobster soothing his gun moll after he slaps her. He's being dead honest though. If she were here he'd be on his knees.

“I have to go," she finally says.

That stings. Now he feels foolish.

"Fine. See you Monday." Billy hangs up the phone. He would have slammed it down but Neil's too close, about to come into the kitchen any moment.

He knows he’s in the wrong. That he fucked up big time. He’s never driven while blacked out before. He's driven drunk more than a few times but has never been completely out of control behind the wheel. He purposely tried to not drink as much since the fight with Steve and he's been doing really well for months. He thought it was all going to stop there. That he was better. Over it. He's never been that close to violence with a girl before either. He always told himself that he wouldn't sink so low. Wouldn’t be like his father.

Billy crossed a major line last night. His own. It scares the hell out of him too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may or may not test some folks but it's gotta happen for me to live up to the title. And obviously, nothing about Billy's behavior in this chapter is okay and I do not condone it. 
> 
> Its gonna get real wild y'all so hopefully you trust that I'm gonna take you somewhere wholesome in the end.


	22. weak spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather pulls away.

Neil steps into the kitchen right as Billy hangs up the phone. Hard of face. Hard of spirit. Everything about Neil is unyielding and rock-like. A monolith. No bend in him to speak of. Billy can imagine Neil cracking like dry earth. Like stone before it crumbles to dust.

“Who the hell were you talking to?” Neil asks, arms folded.

Neil's dressed neatly as usual, hair slicked and mustache combed. Neil might be blue-collar but he dresses his best every day. Most would never guess he’s an alcoholic, that he gets drunk and beats his kid. Neil’s charming. He gives a great first impression. Friendly with a quick wit before the anger flares up. Billy’s seen people get flabbergasted when he goes from zero to a hundred out of nowhere. Neil’s words cut something fierce. Half the time they hurt worse than his blows.

“No one,” Billy answers, glancing at the floor. Neil will get on his case for not looking him in the eye so Billy summons his courage and observes him head on. Back straightening, mouth hardening. A disciplined front learned well. Even as his fists tighten and his heart hammers.

“No one?” Neil’s brow raises. “You’re up this early on a weekend to talk to no one?”

“No one important," Billy makes a move to go past him, but Neil’s arm shoots out, palm slapping onto the fridge.

“Max says you’re seeing someone,” he says, a bit enthusiastic but for all the wrong reasons.

_That little bitch. _Billy shrugs, expression kept plain. “Sort of.”

“Why do you never bring her over?”

Billy makes sure to say as little as possible. If he reveals anything, Neil will inevitably use it against him later. He won’t give Neil that much power. That much ammo.

“Because it’s not serious.”

“She another one of your playthings?” Neil gives a humorless bark of laughter. “You ever going to go out with anyone who isn’t a whore?”

Billy ignores the pit of shame in his belly. “She’s just a friend."

Neil’s eyes go beady, nose sniffing. Predator inching towards his meal. “I’d like to meet her.”

Billy goes very still. The idea of bringing Heather over to meet Neil makes him feel sick. The image of Neil turning that charm on Heather. Of her buying it, smiling back. Rabbit held in the coyote’s mouth.

“I dunno, she’s pretty busy-”

“-I said,” Neil leans forward until Billy has to force himself not to flinch. “I’d like to meet her.”

Billy clams up. Gets weak-kneed. Something about Neil’s tone can make him feel so small in an instant. “Yes, sir.”

“And put a shirt on. This isn’t some kind of faggot house.”

"Yes, sir."

Billy waits dutifully for Neil to lower his arm. Leaves the kitchen with his chin held high. He looks strong, collected. He feels anything but.

*

Monday arrives and there’s no more word from Heather. Billy called her three times yesterday but Rosita kept insisting she wasn’t home. He decides to pick her up for school because she didn’t tell him not to. This time he shows up alone. Billy specifically told Max last night to find a different ride or skate to school. He needs to talk to Heather without an audience. He can’t handle a redheaded brat in the backseat listening to every breath.

When Billy parks, honks his horn and sees Heather coming towards him, she looks reluctant. Head down. Shoulders hunched. Tight in her shell.

She clicks open the car door, sits down and Billy leans over to kiss her. She turns her face away and his lips catch her cheek.

"I'm sorry,” he murmurs, weight like a brick in his chest.

Heather glances at him briefly, voice weary. “I still feel really weird.” She keeps her gaze fixed on the pale horizon. “This is weird.”

Billy’s palm moves to Heather’s knee, thumb smoothing over the fabric of her black nylons. “Let me make it up to you. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s not that simple, Billy. You really…,” she pauses as his mouth skims her cheek again. Breathes in sharp as he kisses a gentle path down her neck .His fingers slowly trace up her leg, her twitching inner thigh, travel towards her skirt. “Billy..”

“I wanna make you feel better,” Billy says, desperation in him. His hand finds the junction between her legs, already hot through her tights and panties. “Wanna make you feel good.”

“I don’t think this is going to help,” she says, breath getting heavier. She doesn’t ask him to stop. Doesn’t push his hand away. Doesn’t do anything except writhe her hips into his palm as he strokes.

“Don’t you wanna make sure?”

She turns her head and kisses him and his heart soars. His fingers know just what to do. They circle her heat through her nylons before delving underneath the waistband to find her dripping. They slip inside her, feeling her wet and warm around him. They finger her until she’s shaking. They travel up to her clit and rub with a determined touch. Must make her come. Must make her like him again.

It’s... needy. Wrong. Fast and frantic in a distant way. She’s enjoying the sensations but he can tell she’s not fully there.

She’s close, tensing up, breath hitching. Until she finally moans, gushes onto his hand as he murmurs appreciation in her ear. Until she’s slack in her seat. Finished.

It’s still wrong.

The tension remains. Hangs in the air like a deadly fume. Swollen with it. He brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks her slick off him like he always does. Tries to go in for another kiss and she turns away again.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“What’s wrong?” He knows it’s a stupid question.

“I’m just- like” she struggles for words. “you can’t just fix things with sex like that. It doesn’t work that way.”

He knows he can’t but the urge to try is there. Sex is what works for Billy. A language he can speak well that everyone understands. It’s an apology,a peace offering, a love letter. An orgasm soothes things, smooths things over. It’s all he has to offer right now.

“What do you need then?” Billy asks. “‘Cause I don’t know what I’m supposed to fuckin’ do.”

“I need some distance. I need space between us.” Heather nods slowly, eyes on her feet. “I’m going to get a ride home with Carol and her mom today.”

“You’d really rather get a ride with that bitch?”

Heather gives him a look like he’s no better.

“Alright,” Billy says quickly. “Just for today.”

“No. For awhile. I’m going to ride my bike to school this week.”

Billy frowns. “So is this like...a break?”

“Yeah.”

“You really think this is going to make you feel any better?”

“Billy,” she snaps suddenly.“You weren’t there. Like, you were there but- you don’t know how scary you get when you’re like that. You really, _really _scared me, okay?”

“I’m sorry.” Billy feels like a broken record. He hates saying the word. Knows that no amount of sorries will make people feel better. The word certainly doesn’t do anything when said to him. Yet he’s giving it out to her like candy. All for nothing.

“I’m not sure if you should go to the Gala this weekend either.”

It’s surprising how wounded Billy feels by that. “Why not?”

“It’s weird to go with you when I’m feeling this way.”

“Maybe you’ll feel different by this weekend.”

“I doubt it.”

Billy gives a frustrated scoff. “Look Heath, I told you. I’m not going to do it again. You don’t fucking trust me? You know you can trust me.”

“No, Billy. I don’t know.” Heather says. “I really don’t.”

A moment of terrible silence.

“Do whatever you need to fucking do, I guess.” Billy says, cold and sharp. He lights a cigarette and starts the engine. The car rumbles, heading towards the school. The atmosphere stays wrong the whole way there.

*

Billy wonders if this might be the worst week he’s had since he arrived in Hawkins. There’s a noticeable hole, a void in his life now. It’s crazy how much he’s come to rely on Heather to smooth the edges of this small town, of his existence. To give him something to look forward to, to care about. He’s lonely. Achingly so.

Tommy becomes his only option. It’s like filling a hole in the wall with jello.

“She’ll be crawling back in no time, Hargrove.” Tommy says that Friday, as he passes a smouldering joint to Billy behind the 7/11. Billy’s leaning against his Camaro, hands Tommy the bottle of Jack Daniels in turn. “So you fucked up. Whatever. If she’s the real deal she won’t be gone for long.”

It's night. Stars glow. Fluorescent lights blind. Billy and Tommy both inch towards drunk, stupider by the second. Someone comes out for their smoke break and doesn’t seem to care.

“These bitches are all the same, man,” Tommy swigs back a shot’s worth of whiskey. “One day they’re all over you, the next they’re freaking out over some bullshit. Stick with me, bud. I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Billy gives Tommy a look of disdain as he passes back the joint. Tommy is the last person who should be giving relationship advice. Him and Carol break up like every month.

“Even if she doesn’t come around,” Tommy inhales smoke deep and keeps it there for a moment,”some other chick will come out of the woodwork tomorrow. Tons of pussy out there, Hargrove.”

“I’m not fucking worried about that, man.” Billy says. “I could get laid _tonight_ if I wanted to. I’m just not into these small-town sluts anymore. They’re all the fucking same.”

“Except for Heather.”

“Yeah, she’s different.”

Tommy laughs. “Okay, you gotta fucking spill. What is it about her that’s got you like this? You look like someone died. Got me concerned about you and shit.”

It’s hard to place exactly what it is about her. It’s a bunch of cliche poetry even trying to make sense of it all. Her eyes alone send him straight to heaven. Her voice makes him weak. Her laugh, her sex, her essence. Pick up any love poem and it’s all the same. Words that barely capture what can only be felt, experienced.

He just...wants her. He feels safe with her. He likes who he is with her. Like he’s something more than just a pretty fuck-up headed straight for a fast death. With her he sees a life outside of the world he’s imprisoned in. With her, he’s a real person, a better person, someone who matters. Feels like he could be anything, do everything. He wants to do everything with her.

“I dunno, she’s just cool,” Billy says. “She’s pissed at me though. Doesn’t even want me to go to this stupid Gala thing she begged me to go to for weeks.”

“Gala? Where?”

Billy wishes he said nothing. He should just permanently keep his foot in his mouth. “I can’t say.”

Tommy stares off into the distance, musing. Then he snaps his head back towards Billy with a big grin.

“What’s she like in the sheets? Bet you that’s the main reason for this whole obsession.”

Billy gives Tommy a wary look. “Hot.”

Tommy offers Billy a perverse leer, elbows him. “Hot _and_?”

“I’m not gonna fuckin’ tell you, asshole.”

“Jeez, you couldn’t shut up about what every other chick did. I know the inside of Stacy Freeman’s pussy without ever being in it. You used to be fun, buddy.”

Billy feels embarrassed about all the salacious detail he used to go into. “It’s just different with her. I like...respect her.”

Tommy nods, smile still widening. Claps Billy on the back. “You’re so fucking whipped, man, it’s not even funny.”

“Fuck off.”

“You know what this reminds me of?”

“What?”

“Me and Carol.”

“Really?” Billy tosses back more whiskey, winces.

Tommy goes misty, whites of his eyes so red it looks painful. “Man, Carol’s my fuckin’... Juliet or whatever. We’re like, goddamn soulmates.”

Billy wants to hurl. “Great.”

“And like...I try to date other chicks. But it’s always her. It’s always Carol. I think...I think I’m going to ask her to marry me one day.”

“Nice...”

“See, that’s what people gotta realize, man. Plenty of bitches in the sea, but there’s only one Carol.”

That might be the stupidest thing Billy’s ever heard but it drives the point home.

The night goes on. More whiskey passed round. Tongues loosening, dissolving. Billy asks Tommy for advice. The only time he has ever done so.

“So, how do you and Carol usually get back together?”

Tommy sways, eyes trying to focus.“Well, usually she breaks up with me. And then I’ll do like….a bold romantic gesture.”

“A bold romantic gesture?” Billy repeats dumbly. He’s euphoric now, looking above, body humming. The stars are so bright.

“Yeah man, like give her a gift or something. Or like show up where you know she’s going to be and surprise her.”

“Huh…”

“You could show up at her house with a bouquet of flowers, man. That’s some romantic shit right there.”

Billy shakes his head. “I dunno if I could fuckin’ do that.”

Tommy thinks for a moment. “Hey…why don’t you show up at the Gala?”

“Because she told me not to go.”

“Man, chicks always say shit like that. She _wants_ you to go. That’s why she said that. She was hounding you about it before. Now she pulls back. That’s classic chick behavior. This is when you make your move.”

Billy never thought about it that way before. “You really think so?”

“Dude, trust me. If I was in your shoes, I’d show up. Believe me, man, she’ll be grateful if you did.”

That advice soaks deep into Billy like a dry lawn in the rain. It gives him the biggest spark of hope he’s felt all week.

*

Billy gets more and more fucked up with Tommy’s encouragement. Probably not a good idea but the guy just keeps passing him the booze. Billy likes it, melts into that familiar numbness that washes over everything like watercolors. An elatedness that both comforts and dulls. Everything is fine and nothing hurts and he doesn’t have to think about the future or the past. Billy is fully present in the abyss. He wants to stay here forever.

Billy drives.This time he is aware that he is driving. Aware that he’s unfocused and slipping. Aware that Tommy’s head is lolling in the seat next to his.The guy can never hold his liquor. Billy drops Tommy off and heads for home.

Then he parks in the Hargrove driveway and hits Neil’s car.

There’s a loud thunk before he backs up, panicking. He gets out of the Camaro to check. Yep. Dent right on the back fender. Billy gives a sardonic laugh under his breath at the sight. Hands gripping into his hair as he holds back a scream. He’s hopelessly fucked. There’s absolutely nothing he can do to stop what’s coming. The only possible option is running away from home.

Billy doesn’t run. He slowly makes his way to his room, through the house that’s now dark and creaky. Fingers gliding along the wall for support. Neil is undoubtedly drunker than Billy is at this point or asleep. Neil has cat-like hearing but maybe he didn’t hear the impact. Maybe Billy will have til tomorrow before Neil realizes. A few hours of peace. But...there won’t be peace. Billy will be on edge all night. Unless he numbs himself more.

It takes a lot less time than Billy anticipated. Billy lies in the dark, on his bed. He’s taken the bottle of Jack Daniels that Tommy gave him and has had a few more swigs. He’s scared. Alcohol and adrenaline mixing together in a way that makes him delirious. He sees the hallway light turn on through the crack under the door.

Then the door slams open. Light streams inside, stuns, consuming the safe darkness. Neil stands in the doorway, a towering shadow.

“You fucking shit," he seethes. There’s no raising of his voice, just pure anger in his tone.

Billy’s yanked off his bed by his shirt. Shoved so hard into his wall that records and cassettes fall to the floor. Billy’s grateful he’s numbed out. This won’t hurt as much as it could.

Neil glances at the bottle of whiskey on Billy’s bed. “Drinking? Did you drink and drive, you idiot?”

Billy laughs at the hypocrisy. It bursts out in one of those sickening cackles that’s more bitter than anything else. That’s when the first punch gets thrown.

Right in the cheek. Shocking, dizzying. Nothing unmanageable. Nothing out of the norm. Alcohol almost makes Billy crave the impact again. Makes him curious about the fallout. Numb. Numb. Numb. A part of him wants to feel the pain as much as he’s afraid of it.

“You think this is funny?” Neil slurs. “Keep laughin’ and I’ll show you how fuckin’ funny I am.”

Billy does keep laughing, feels close to insanity with how easily it rips from his throat. Neil hits him again. And again. Until Billy’s blinded by his own blood. Until it trickles down his brow and stings through his lashes. Neil backs away, panting, shaking. With rage or regret, Billy doesn’t know. He leaves the room and Billy leans against the wall, slides down it in a heap. He doesn’t notice the tears until he wonders if he’s bleeding out his eyes too.

He crawls onto his bed and lays face down for a moment. Just breathing. His hand reaches to his side to pick up the bottle of Jack Daniels. Strangely precious. Cold. He gets up on his elbow, removes the cap and takes another sip before he holds the bottle to his eye. 

Billy hears his bedroom door lock from the outside. Bolted shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, folks!
> 
> Feel free to hit me up on [tumblr](https://theredjadequeen.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat.


	23. trouble child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy attends the Hawkins Country Club Gala.

_In the woods there is no sound. _

_Billy is flat on his back, tree root digging into his ribs. A silent breeze ruffles his hair, cools his skin. Boggy scent of forest damp in his nostrils. Blue sky peeking through thick evergreen._

_He staggers to his bare feet, looks around in the half-light, toes sinking in moss and soil. There is a small house in the distance at the forest’s edge. Gray, and wooden and ragged. The Byers place. _

_The lawn is a lustrous deep green. Overgrown and flickering in the wind. Motioning him closer. Coaxing. He takes one step forward and is instantly transported to the front door._

_The battered door creaks open by itself and he looks inside. It’s bare. No furniture. Wallpaper peeling in the shadows. Abandoned and rotting. _

_Pink-gold light streams through the windows and Heather appears like magic. Standing in the middle of what was the living room. Wearing a long red dress. Shining. Smiling like a child. _

_She holds out her open palms for him to come to her. He floats into her arms. Holds her tight for a moment before they begin to dance. Slow. To silence, to each other’s breaths. Easy calm in every step. Heather laughs when he tips her backwards. She comes back up and her lips almost brush over his. Then she goes stiff. Gives a worried glance down and his eyes follow._

_“Billy, look.” _

_There’s a cold pool of blood underneath his feet. Growing. Makes an ugly slurping sound as it expands fast, travelling like veins in all directions until the entire floor is flooded wine-red. A dark sea rises. Seeps into the ankles of his jeans. Soaks Heather’s cherry colored dress an even deeper hue._

_“We have to get out of here.” he says. His hand tightens around Heather's, pulling her towards the front entrance. Fear makes his breath shallow. Blood sloshes as they wade. _

_The door is gone. Swallowed by wallpaper. He rushes forward, slamming the wall with his fists. Scratching. Digging until he feels decayed wood under his nails. He rips back the slimy boards, There’s only cement on the other side. He paws at it in futile panic._

_“That’s not the way out.” Heather whispers. She takes his hand in hers and guides him through the blood in the opposite direction. Further into the house. Billy resists at first but she’s too strong._

_She leads him down a deserted hallway. There is a bright bay window at the end. She takes him to it and leans on his shoulder._

_Through the pane is his childhood home. A blonde boy running in the summer-bleached grass. Happy. His mother close behind, chasing. Giggling loud._

_This was before she left. Before he saw Neil hit her. Before Neil ever lay a hand on him. _

_“Different world.” Billy says. “Miss it.”_

_“We’ll make our own world,” Heather squeezes his hand. “Just as good.”_

_She kisses his cheek and-_

Billy wakes up with a gasp, breathing hard. Still drunk. His room is spinning off its axis, morning sun making him squint. He forces himself upright. Heavy. Hurting. Slowly stumbling out of bed and checking his door. Still locked. He takes a big gulp of whiskey to wake himself up, to ward off the pain that’s creeping behind his right cheek and eye socket like a chemical burn. He can’t fully see out of that eye, throbbing, lids barely slitting open.

He needs to find a tux. It’s all he can think of at this moment. Heather. The Gala. He should have bought a tux earlier this week before his face got destroyed.

He pulls on his leather jacket and climbs out the window. Drops to the ground on shaky legs. Pisses in the bushes.Teeters out into the driveway to see his Camaro parked way off again. The dent in Neil’s car doesn’t look as bad as how he remembered it. Neil has an eye for detail though. Would have noticed if Billy had breathed on it the wrong way.

Billy gets in his car, adjusts his mirror to find a purple stain closing his swollen eye shut. Bruised just as deep on the cheek below, dried blood sticking to his skin. It’s a sorry picture but he can’t digest it. He puts his sunglasses on and pretends it’s not there. Feels detached in a way that’s almost funny. He’s not here, he’s just watching a dumb movie. He’s in pain but it’s not his. He wants to cry but tears aren’t real either. He needs to talk to Heather. Has to make things right again. Once he makes things right, everything will go back to normal.

He drives into town and parks in front of the thrift store. There’s no way in hell he can afford a new tux. He contemplated shoplifting one but that seems too much of a hassle right now. Susan told him a week ago that he could get something second hand and she would hem it. She knows vaguely about the Gala, about Heather. Asked about her a few times but got the hint that he didn’t want to talk. Susan never demands. Too afraid to even speak over Neil at the dinner table. Billy holds it against her. He can’t stand weak people.

He heads into the thrift store, The bell on the door tinkling makes his skull flash with pain. That’s when he bumps hard into someone that he’d rather not see.

Joyce Byers, mother of the freak.

“_Woah._” Her hand grabs Billy’s arm to steady herself. Brown eyes widen when she notices the wound barely concealed by his aviators. “Billy? Oh my god, are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Billy takes a step backwards, almost knocking over a mannequin.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts, shoving past her.

“I have some hydrogen peroxide in my car-”

“I told you I’m fucking fine.” Billy shifts jackets down a rack with one hand, looking blindly at neon fabric and ugly fits. Realizes he’s in the women’s section. “Why don’t you go back to your little office and brainwash another kid or something?”

Joyce works in the Hawkins High counselling office. Newbie straight out of night school. Has no idea what she’s doing. Billy was forced to talk to her for two sessions after his fight with Steve. How fucked up is it that he had to talk to the exact lady who’s house he had beaten him up in? Billy _hated _those sessions. Especially hated her. The way she picked and prodded. Wanted him to say shit he’s never told anyone in his life. Billy made sure to reply only in monosyllabic sentences, nothing beyond a grunted yes or no. He’s sure by the end of it she hated him too.

Joyce peers up at him. Like she wants to take off his sunglasses to thoroughly inspect his bruises. “You know, my office is always open if you want to talk.”

“Don’t need your bleeding-heart act, lady. Had enough of it the first time.”

“Okay, I’m...just a little worried about you right now."

Billy gives her a look of contempt that even sunglasses can’t hide. Stares her down.

“Just know the offer still stands.” Joyce gestures awkwardly. “Yeah...okay. I can see that I'm overstaying my welcome. Bye.” She gives a concerned look before she walks out the front door, and Billy feels the kind of emptiness that only happens when you know you were rude and it’s too late. Happens a lot lately.

By some stroke of luck he manages to find a navy tux that actually fits him okay. Only issue is a split seam at the shoulder.The cashier stares at his bruise from behind the register. Gawking. Billy threatens to give him a matching one if he keeps it up.

Billy returns home, ready to drive past it if Neil’s car is still in the driveway. To his relief, Neil’s gone. When Billy’s inside the living room where Susan’s watching soaps, he tosses his tux at her. Tells her to sew up the shoulder. Susan barely glances at his wounds, but gets up and takes her sewing kit out. She’s always like that. Always does what she’s told. Maybe that’s why she never gets hit. Billy’s mom wasn’t so fortunate, but that’s because she talked back. Hit back too.

He stands in the kitchen and holds a bag of frozen peas to his face. Susan eventually mentions the elephant in the room as he opens a can of beer and drinks it like he just came back from the desert.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you’re fit to go to this thing?” she asks from the dining table, eyes downcast. “I think maybe you should-”

“You’re not my fucking mother, Susan. Don’t start acting like it now.”

Susan goes quiet, keeps sewing. A timid bird. Feeble.

His Mom would have yelled at him. Would have told him to never talk like that to her again. Susan has never raised her voice at him in all his years of knowing her. Never batted a lash at his bruises either. Billy’s not sure whether he would prefer that she said something or not.

What would happen if Susan spoke up? If she told Neil to stop? Would Neil hit her too? Hit Max while he’s at it?

No, best to take the punches himself. Better for everyone that way.

*

Billy arrives at the gates of Hawkins Town and Country club. Lightheaded. Mildly drunk. Everyone looks at him suspiciously in the parking lot and he hasn’t even gotten out of the car yet. It’s 7pm and he’s unhinged. He wiped the blood off with wet wipes and his face is aching. He drank more to numb the pain. He smokes a cigarette and sprays on more cologne to hide the scent of whiskey. Chews spearmint gum for extra coverage.

Unsurprisingly, the place is massive. Billy can spot the glimmering chandeliers through the big windows. He walks between white pillars to get through the front doors and when he takes in the room he understands exactly how underdressed he is. It’s like the fucking Oscars in here. Everyone sparkles like Christmas ornaments. A twinkling sea. They all glance at his face as he walks past.

Then Billy sees Heather. Dressed in a dark red pantsuit, standing by a group of rich older women all holding champagne flutes. She _also_ twinkles. Hair up in that high ponytail, dangling crystals at her ears. Billy comes up behind her and puts his palm on the small of her back. She looks up at him in shock. Horror.

“Billy? Oh my _god_.”

He squeezes her for a hug. She pulls back and drags him away from the little crowd of onlookers, worry in her eyes as they touch over his bruises. “What happened to you?

“Nothing really.”

“What’s wrong? Why did you come here?”

Billy’s a bit hurt by the lack of excitement. “To see you.”

“Are you okay?” She tentatively reaches out and he grabs her hand, holds it firm in his palm.

“It’s fine, just made a mistake.”

“A mistake?” she echoes, brows knitted.

“Don’t worry about it. So you gonna show me around this dump or what?”

“Billy, I told you not to come,” she says. “Why would you come when I specifically told you not to?

“Jesus, didn’t realize I was such a fucking pariah.”

“You’re not,” she tries to keep her voice down, leaning close. “I need space. I told you I needed space and you’re not listening to me.”

Billy feels stupid, wobbly. “Guess I’ll show myself around then.” He makes a move away from her but she grabs his shoulder.

“Have you been drinking?”

“No.”

“Billy, I can smell it on you.”

“Fuck, fine. Yeah, I had a little to drink. What of it?”

“Billy, this isn't like you. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Maybe you don’t know me that fuckin’ well, sweetheart. And just ignore me if you don’t want me around that bad. It’ll be like I’m not even here.”

"I can't ignore you.” Heather snaps. “You never let me."

Billy takes a glass of champagne from one of the servers parading them around on a tray. “See ya, Heath.” He drains the glass right in front of her and turns towards the bar.

*

Mr. Holloway is hammered.

Billy knows this because as soon as Mr.Holloway spots him, his eyes light up like they’re long lost pals.

“Billy! Get the hell over here!”

He finds himself sucked into Mr. Holloway’s circle of friends. They’re all old. All smoking cigars and tossing back hard liquor on ice. All staring at his black eye.

“What the hell happened to you?” Mr. Holloway asks, gawking hazily.

Billy doesn’t miss a beat.“Fell down.”

“No kidding. Must have been a nasty fall. You put some ice on that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now,” Mr.Holloway puts an arm around Billy’s shoulders. “Why don’t I show you around?”

If Billy were sober this whole moment would be far more perplexing. Instead he feels swept up in Mr. Holloways sudden genial attitude. If only Mr.Holloway had more drinks in him every other time they talked. Billy kinda likes this friendly double. Weird how booze solves everything. Half the time.

“Okay, son”, Mr.Holloway points out some more shiny ornaments in a corner.“Stay away from those folks, all they care about is old money. Doesn’t matter to them if you built a business from the ground up. If you weren’t born with a gold brick up your ass you might as well be a sewer worker.”

Billy doesn’t know what to say to that. “Okay.”

“See, this is how you and I are so damn alike. I was just like you. Just a dumb kid with a good car. Just seeing how I could make a basic living doing what I love. I admire that you know, a guy that just sticks to his guns, knows what he wants and goes after it. You might start out as a mechanic, but who knows, maybe one day you could have your own company, hell, even have your own franchise!”

That literally sounds like the last thing Billy would ever want. “Guess we’ll see.”

“That’s what I always tell my little girl. Always told her to work her ass off for everything in life. Never have a silver spoon in her mouth. And that’s why she’s going to Harvard with a full scholarship. She didn’t have to work that hard. Could have taken my money and my word and got in that way. She did it by herself. Well...and with a little push from her dad. A big push.”

Jesus, Mr.Holloway is a chatty drunk. Billy keeps nodding. Mr. Holloway’s arm is still around him.

“Cool.”

“Get a goddamn haircut and you might actually make something of yourself one day.”

Is this the same asshole that couldn’t open his mouth without calling him a coward? “Thanks.”

Mr. Holloway takes a glass of whiskey on ice from the bar. Winks. “Don’t tell anyone I gave this to you.”

Billy grins toothily. “Your secret’s safe with me, sir.” Mr. Holloway and him clink glasses and Billy feels that spicy burn all the way down his throat.

*

Billy’s managing to keep tabs on his creeping drunkenness. Apparently the trick is not doing a fucking keg stand. Billy can usually drink all day without a problem if he wants to. He’s tried it a handful of times with success. But there’s this particular desperation tonight that he can’t seem to numb. He’s not drunk enough to overlook the eyes on him, the judgement, the animosity. Not drunk enough for his face not to feel like it’s going to explode.

He scans the place for Heather as he wanders to find the washrooms. She has a knack for hiding herself when she wants to avoid him. Except this time she’s not hiding. She’s schmoozing with a group of girls that all look like Trust Fund Barbie. He hears her natural laughter over the white noise of rich folks talking. Billy’s not sure what’s worse. Seeing her or not. It still pisses him off that she doesn’t want him here.

He should probably go home. No, he absolutely should. But he’s too stubborn. Bull-like when he’s set his sight on any goal. The original plan was to surprise Heather but now the posts have shifted. Now he’s just here to follow through on his word. Show that he’s not afraid of some dumb country club. Rich people staring. He’s tipsy enough now that it seems like a good idea.

He stumbles upon the men’s washroom. Checks himself out in the mirror and almost laughs at the monster staring back. He looks fucking _crazy_. Like Two-Face from Batman. It’s a wonder Mr.Holloway talked to him at all.

As soon as he steps out, Billy sees Mrs. Holloway. She’s standing eerily at the end of the hall, arms crossed, glaring.

“Hi,” Billy says as he attempts to move past her without a fuss.

Mrs. Holloway steps directly in front of him, and starts spitting words out like an angry viper.“You shouldn’t be here. You are _not_ fit to be here.”

“I, uh- was invited. By your husband, remember?”

“You are _drunk_. You have clearly come here to waste everybody’s time and I suggest you leave now.”

“Mr. Holloway doesn’t seem to mind that I'm here. Dunno why you’ve gotta problem with me, lady.”

Mrs. Holloway’s thin eyebrow raises. “Why is Heather avoiding you? What did you do?”

Creepy to think she was watching both of them.

“I dunno, she’s busy talking to her friends,” Billy shrugs.

“That's not like her. Not with a boy she actually likes. What did you do?”

“No idea. Can I go now?”

“Only if you go straight _home_.”

“Fine, I’ll leave, alright? Jesus, lady.”

“And let me just get this straight with you.” Mrs. Holloway steps closer. Finger pointing in his face. “Heather is going to _Harvard_. She’s going to be very successful and you have literally nothing to offer her. You are irrelevant to her life.”

That cuts him straight to the bone. “Think she can decide for herse-”

“_No_. No she can’t. Heather might be bright at school but she has the instincts of a goldfish. She needs to be _guided_. Tom lets her get away with far too much. Letting her date you, for example. Now I am telling you, right now, it’s over. You were a passing phase for her. She can’t be with someone who _embarrases _her like this.”

Billy’s crushed to smithereens.What a raging bitch.That stubborn side of him won’t cave though, won’t show weakness. “Well gee, Mrs. Holloway, real sorry you feel that way.”

“Oh, don’t you _dare_ patronize me,” she seethes. “My husband might have given you some leeway but _I_ run this family, not him. If you ever step foot near my daughter or our family again, I’ll call the cops. That isn’t an exaggeration.”

Mrs. Holloway spins on her heel and glides away in that perfect refined walk. Alien-like.

Billy’s in shock. Wonders if she’d actually call the cops on him or if that was just a threat. Whatever, she’s obviously crazy. Nothing she says means anything.

Except it does. It really fucking does. Every word she said is still eating away through his insides. Like every passing thought he ever had about Heather being too good for him was heard loud and clear. Slit open and all his weaknesses spilling out.

Billy makes his way to the back end of the country club, feeling that familiar rage in his blood rising. Competes with his humiliation. Makes his whole body tingle.

When Billy exits through the back door he sees someone he should have known would be here.

Steve Harrington. Crushing a cigarette butt into the grass.

“Well, look who it fuckin' is.” Billy sneers, approaching Steve with that rush inside frothing to a peak. Electricity in his spine that’s similar to the feeling he has when he’s looking for a fuck. Kind of messed up that the difference between violence and sex is so thin for him. Something primal about the two that overlaps. The craving is so similar. The only issue is that one always ends in blood and sirens.

“Look man, I really don’t wanna start anything,” Steve says, backing away, like he can sense Billy’s hunger. “Just keep your fucking distance, alright?”

“I’m not starting shit,” Billy reaches in his dinner jacket for a smoke but realizes he doesn’t keep his cigarettes in there. Makes him angrier. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“My dad’s a big part of this charity gala...thing.”

“And what the fuck is this thing even for?”

“I dunno, cancer or something?” Steve is still inching away.

“Your dad throws this thing and you don’t even know?”

“I’m fucking busy, man. Gotta life outside of the country club.”

“Doin' what?” Billy blocks Steve off from escape. Gets nice and close. “Puttin' your stupid face where it doesn’t belong?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Means stay the fuck away from Heather or I’ll break that prettyboy face in half.”

“You’re still on that?” Steve scoffs. “I came here with a date tonight, Hargrove. I’m not here to steal your girlfriend, okay?”

“You can say whatever shit you wanna say, Harrington. I know you wanna fuck her. You’re sniffing around-"

“Dude, you fucking terrorized her last time I saw you two together! Scared the shit out of her. Who knows what could have happened if no one stopped you. You really think I’m the bad guy here?”

Billy gets that same old sting of shame that’s taking over his existence like a disease. Makes him freeze up. Makes him hate himself. Makes him want to go home and drink more.

“Eat shit, asshole.” Billy mutters, turning to walk away. Defeated. No words to defend himself and a headache coming on.

“Heather said that she told you not to come. She doesn’t want you here, man. Nobody wants you here. Did you sneak in to ruin her night again or something?”

Billy spins around. That comment burrows deep, hits a nerve already frayed. Makes him go up in flames again.

“I’m sick of your fuckin' face, Harrington.” Billy’s not sure if he has any control at this point. His limbs are heavy but the anger is overwhelming, moving his body like a marionette.There’s nothing holding him back anymore.

“You’re really gonna do this here?” Steve takes a step backward as Billy closes in on him. Steve could run if he wanted to. He won’t. Steve might always lose but he won’t turn down a fight either. Maybe there’s a twisted nerve in him too.

“Better fuckin' believe it.”

Billy swings first. Steve ducks and actually tackles him to the ground. Punches once and Billy’s lip splits open, spouting red. It takes Billy off guard, excites him. He’s finally going to get the fight he’s been itching for. A release for the blood shed by his father. With Neil, he can never hit back. Billy always thinks about how he _could_, how it wouldn’t take much to knock Neil’s jaw sideways. Fear always steps in. Makes it more humiliating, having to stop himself. Lion in a cage.

With Steve and every other sorry bastard who’s ever crossed him, he can punch and kick and yell as much as he wants. It’s life-affirming.

Steve might have the upper hand now but Billy has more rage in his little finger than Steve has in his whole body. It’s always going to give Billy the edge that Steve will never have. Steve doesn’t fight dirty either. Billy doesn’t believe in that. He's smart enough to know that in the real world no one fights fair. To Billy, it’s always dog eat dog.

Billy headbutts and there's a bright burst of blood from Steve's nose. Billy uses the moment of surprise to overpower, turning the tables, straddling his ribs. Hands encircle Steve’s throat, pinning him, watching him struggle. Squeezing hard. Steve pulls and scratches but Billy's locked in. Has a feral strength in him that doesn't know the difference between hurt and dead.

“Get the hell off him!” A deep voice roars, cutting through Billy’s trance. “Get the hell away from my son.”

Burly arms seize him. Hank Harrington. Grappling, tearing him away from Steve’s pale neck. Smacks Billy so hard that he sees dazzling lights. Pushed to the grass and the night sky spins, blinking. There are people rushing across the lawn towards them.The crowd circles around Steve, cooing at him, asking if he’s alright. Billy’s left with Hank swearing into his ear. Hands bigger than Billy’s head pushing him into the ground, making sure he can’t move. Billy’s so emotionally exhausted that he’s not sure he would move if he could.

Billy can't tell how much time has passed when he hears sirens. It takes him back to the Byers place months ago. Takes him back to California, house parties busted. Takes him back to the night his mom called the cops on Neil when he hit her. Billy hopes whatever cop that shows up now is as lenient on him as they were on Neil.

Feels like an eternity when he’s finally dragged to his feet. Another burly hand on his shoulder. This time less hateful. More concerned. Annoyed.

“You again, kid?”

Should have known. Chief Hopper. Tall and brawny enough to make Billy take notice, hesitate. He still reflexively twists in Hopper’s grasp, tries to fight him off. Hopper grabs him by the collar of his thrift store tux.

“You’re coming with me whether you like it or not,” Hopper says flatly. Jaded look on his face like he’s seen everything. “So make it easier for both of us and don’t be stupid.”

Billy keeps fighting. Until his arms are held back and he feels cold steel snapping around his wrists.

“Get that shit off me,” Billy says, squirming. “Fuckin' pig.”

“Told you not to be stupid.”

Billy can’t fully comprehend this moment. He’s being shoved towards a police car parked haphazardly in the country club driveway, lights flashing red and blue. The well-dressed crowd is watching from the grass, from the terrace, the balcony, getting larger. Whispers, voices. A commotion. Heather rushes onto the lawn.

“Billy!” She runs towards him but is held back by Hank’s strong arms. He’s saying something to her that Billy can’t make out. He’s sure that it has something to do with how he’s no good. That the cops are going to take care of him. That Hank knew this was going to happen all along.

Hopper hauls Billy into the backseat. Still smells like burnt coffee and cigarettes. The door slams next to Billy’s face and Hopper walks over to Hank. Starts talking, nodding, glancing at Billy now and then. Heather’s still held back. Staring with tears in her eyes. Dismayed.

Billy looks away.

*

Trees whiz by as Billy tries to get comfortable in the back of the cop car. Kind of hard to do when handcuffed. He's so tired.

“You ever gonna pay that speeding ticket, kid?” Hopper's steely eyes meet Billy’s in the mirror.

“Thought I did.” Billy lies.

“You know I’ll have to suspend your license if you don’t do that asap right?”

Billy doesn't answer.

"Haven't gotten any calls about you in a while though," Hopper says. "I thought you were either permanently grounded or dead."

Billy just stares out the window, full moon emerging behind a cloud. “You taking me to the station?”

“Yup.”

It hits Billy then that Hopper will have to call his parents, talk to Neil. Again.

“Listen, jus' lemme out here and we can forget this ever happened, alright?”

“Not a chance. You’re an underage drunk that just almost strangled someone to death.” Hopper glares. Watches as Billy fidgets. “So what’s with you and that Harrington kid? He looks a little better off than you this time around.”

Billy doesn’t mention that he had the bruises before the fight started. He strains against his cuffs, grunting in annoyance when he can’t break them. “He’s always in my fuckin' way. Hate him."

“Why were you at the country club?”

Billy gives a mean laugh. “What, you don’t think I’m country club material?”

“I’m kinda surprised they let you in.”

“Go out with a rich chick and anything’s possible.”

“Let me guess.” Hopper says.“You and Harrington both want the same girl."

“She’s _my_ girl. Harrington can fuck right off. She's...," Billy pauses blearily. The car feels like it’s spinning now. Feels like he might throw up."....mine.”

“Spoken like a true caveman.”

“I'm kinda crazy about her." Billy mumbles. It's weird that he's telling a police officer this. That he's saying it at all.

Hopper gives a gentle snort. “Yeah. _Might_ wanna cool down with that. Dont wanna have to cuff you again anytime soon."

"She's crazy about me too. She's jus' mad at me right now. She'll get over it."

"That's real sweet, kid." Hopper drawls. Glances at Billy again before pressing a cassette tape into the deck. “You like Jim Croce?”

"Who the fuck is that?" Billy leans his head against the window just as the opening piano of “Bad Bad Leroy Brown” blares in his eardrums. "Jesus, not this fuckin' shit."

Hopper bangs the jangly rhythm on his steering wheel, ignoring him. If Billy wasn't slowly drowning in his own inebriation, he'd put up more of a fuss.

Then he remembers. Every passing second takes him closer and closer to the police station. To Neil.

Billy doesn’t say another word to Hopper all night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K i feel like I might lose some people with this one, but I've had this planned for months and I had to do it! Thanks to those still chugging along with me.
> 
> Sorry again, Steve.


	24. go your own way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy meets up with Heather. Then goes to counselling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! It's been a minute, but here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Billy doesn’t get hit by Neil after the fight. At least not as hard. A mercy on Neil’s part. Unusual in his restraint.

Maybe he was afraid to kill him this time.

The meeting between Hopper and Neil goes stupidly smooth at the Hawkins police station that night. A simple _thanks for taking care of my boy_ and _i’ll make sure it won’t happen again. _Led out the front doors with a pat on his back that Billy knows will later be a wallop.

Neil’s too good at that shit. Looks so conservative on the surface. That moustache and sharp charm and winning smile he can pull from the depths of him that makes him seem oh-so-crisp.

Hopper looked at them warily though. Billy caught a flicker of suspicion in those grim eyes. Wonders if he could tell Neil was smothering himself for show. Saving his energy for a belt-lash against his son’s spine upon arriving home. Billy’s still so drunk he can’t feel it much anyway. Alcohol continues to be his saving grace. His little catalyst for both pain and numbness. Makes it so much more tempting now that he’s hit bottom.

Billy gets his bedroom window nailed shut. His keys taken away for anything other than driving to and from school. His door bolted from the outside every evening. It’s the worst punishment Billy has ever received. Reduced to pissing in a cup in the middle of the night. He’d rather just get punched bloody and be done with it. Pain is far easier than restriction.

No calls from Heather the next few days. He calls her a dozen times but nobody’s home. Drives to her place on Monday morning to pick her up. A desperate thing to do, he knows. Blasts his car horn at the end of her driveway and there’s no pretty girl rushing towards him. Shouldn’t shake him but it does. He doesn’t see her at school. No one knows where she is though they've all heard about the fight, of course.

He knows the worst is yet to come.

*

Tuesday after school, Billy works out because that’s all he can do now besides homework. A raw endeavor. He doesn’t want to stop lifting until he’s near death. Until his body is melted gelatin. Until he forgets suffering and knows only burning muscle.

Mid-rep, the doorbell rings. At first, Billy expects Max to go get it, but then he remembers Susan and her are both out grocery shopping. He answers it himself.

It’s Heather, looking nervous. A soft pink sweater and blue jeans hugging lithe limbs. Hair up in a pretty red bow matching the bike laying sideways on the lawn behind her. Billy pulls her into his arms without thinking. Holds her tight but she’s not pliant this time. Stiff as oak under his palms.

“Sorry, I didn’t call,” she says. A voice so hesitant. Eyes weary enough they shatter any illusions about this being a kiss and make up situation. Shame pushes thick and painful in Billy’s veins. Re-opens every wound.

“It’s okay.” Billy glances over his shoulder. Hopes Neil’s still in the basement watching the game. Even opening the front door to talk to a girl is pushing it. “Just good to see you.”

Heather’s doing the no-eye contact dance. Glances at bruises with a wince she can’t disguise. Looks on the verge of tears again and he can’t stand it. Wishes she’d ignore all the wrongdoing and just hold him and forget.“I wanted to but my mother unplugged all the phones. Told me I can't talk to you. I had to sneak out my window to get here.”

That she went through that effort sweetens his mood a fraction. “Yeah, it’s... pretty bad here too.” He doesn’t elaborate. Knows it’s weird to have a bedroom door that gets locked from the outside. Wonders if she noticed that before.

“Can we?” She gestures to the patio stairs.

Billy quietly shuts the door behind him and sits down on the first step. Heather sits down next to him. Keeps a foot between. He knows that whatever she says isn’t going to be nice to hear. Heather’s touchy-feely when there’s good news. She has a vibe right now that touching him will turn her to stone. He keeps chiding himself for hoping for affection, her creamy skin. He just wants it so bad, it kills.

They pause there on the steps for too long. Long enough to take in spring wind on his face like cold silk. Sweat cooling to a chill. He almost gnaws a hole through his cheek waiting.

“I don’t want to talk about what happened,” she finally says.

Well, that’s a relief. A big sigh huffs from his mouth. “Me neither.”

“So,” She attempts a calming breath. Painful to watch. Makes him want to clap a hand on her little shoulder to steady her. “I’m just going to say what I need to say.”

“Alright.”

Another big breath. Palms on her knees for full self-support. “I can’t see you anymore.”

Billy would have to be stupid to not see this coming. It still feels like being burned alive. Drawn and quartered. Heart first.

He finds himself defending anyways. Some last ditch effort to coax that reliable tenderness out of her. “I know I fucked up, Heath, but-”

“It’s not even really up to me anymore at this point, Billy.” Words roll out in a snap. “My parents….they’re taking me out of Hawkins High.”

That blasts his solar plexus like cannon fire. Air stolen from his lungs.“They’re _what?_”

“They’re transferring me to St.Mary’s. That’s where I was supposed to go when I first got here but I begged them to put me in a public school.”

Unbelievable. There’s a step below hell. “And this is all because of me?”

She nods sadly. That softness peeking through like lilies penetrating ice.“Yes…”

“Isn’t it kind of late in the year to do this? And St.Mary’s is like an hour away isn’t it?”

“They don’t care.”

“Fuck.” Billy’s head drops in his hands. Spiralling like he’s drunk again. “What the fuck.”

“I’m sorry.” Heather’s fingers hover out like she’s about to touch him. He’s ready to lean into it before she pulls back a second later. “This feels so surreal. Like I’m dreaming.”

“I’m straight-up having a nightmare.” His fingers twine through his hair to pull at the roots. The slight pain lets him know this is real.

They both take in bleak reality for an agonizing minute. Paralyzed by the consequences of his bad decisions.

Heather speaks up when he’s close to screaming. “Why did you do it?”

“Thought you said you didn’t want to talk about it,” Billy grunts. In no mood to explain.

“I know,” she says softly. “I’m just...so confused. Like, that isn’t you. That’s not the Billy I’ve known these past months.”

Billy grimaces at how wrong she is. “Maybe it’s more me than you realize.”

She pauses to stare at him. Absorbing that statement.

He sighs out a breath he’s been holding. “This isn’t how things were supposed to happen.”

She was supposed to yearn to leave with him. Ditch Hawkins and escape their stupid, restricted lives. Run away to California and leave this shit town for good. Start fresh and new with a welcoming blue ocean on the horizon. His car and her camera. Free and unhinged on the open road.

“And whose fault is that?” Heather bristles. “I don’t get it. I don’t get this like, alternate personality you have that wants to destroy everything!”

“I’m sorry.”

Fire blooms in Heather then. Whips out to scold. “_Don’_t be sorry. You were sorry last time. You told me it wouldn’t happen again and then everything got even worse.”

“Jesus, Heather.” Anger bursts right back at her. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know!” She flashes frustration. Takes a moment to collect herself, doe-eyes pooling fresh tears. Can’t control the warble in her voice. “You really hurt me, Billy.”

“I’m sorry,” Billy repeats slowly. Fingers move to her shoulder but she shifts away. “I’ll fucking say it all day,’ Heath. I’m _sorry._”

Heather shakes her head, lips pressed together as she looks across the street. Trembling to a whisper. “I’m sorry too.”

They both go quiet. An old woman walking their dog strolls by, humming warmly. A quick wind nips at them to contrast. Billy notices snowdrops blooming in the dewy grass. Spring is right around the corner. Feels like winter is just beginning in Billy’s world.

“Billy,” The faintest voice from her. “I want you to be honest with me.”

“...I’ll try.”

“Does your Dad hit you?”

The question hits harder than Neil ever did. Instant pain. Suddenly aware of every ache and bruise. “Only when I fuck up.”

Her hand falls soft on his knee like a single raindrop. “It’s wrong of him to do that. No matter what you do, it’s wrong of him.”

He bolts to his feet. Hurt so sharp it threatens to stab through his skin. “So you’re gonna bring this shit up _now_, right after you dump me? Give me a fucking break, Heath.” He turns towards the door.

“I just-” She trails behind him, won’t let him retreat on her, “it’s not your fault. You need to know that.”

“Fuck _off_!” He spins to face her. Gets close to hiss fury. “Look, it’s none of your goddamn business what goes on in this house, okay? I don’t want your prissy insight.” He goes for the door knob, ready to escape back to his cell.

She touches his shoulder gently then. A soothing voice that stops him in his tracks despite every instinct to flee. “Billy, don’t leave like this. I’m sorry. I brought it up at the worst time. I’m so sorry. Just don’t leave mad at me.”

Billy presses his forehead against the door. Leans there fuming, struggling not to say anything that destroys even more. “I don’t want to talk about it. So don’t make me fucking talk about it. It’s not gonna happen. So drop it.”

“Okay,” she nods. “I’m sorry I brought it up like this.”

“Maybe you should just go.”

Her hand keeps steady on his arm. “We should say goodbye the right way. We could hug? I really want to hug you.”

If she holds him this second, he might cry. “Could make everything worse.”

“Please, Billy.” Fingers smooth down his skin. “Just one last hug?”

A resounding _no_ sweeps Billy’s body. A powerful physical rejection of that latter sentence. He lifts from the door to give her a sardonic look. “You _actually_ think this is the end?”

“I don’t know,” she murmurs, “It feels like the universe is trying to tear you away from me.”

He shakes his head firmly. “It’s not the fucking end, Heather.”

“No?” Palpable relief in her eyes, followed by obvious doubt.

“No.” He takes a step towards her. Invades her space to make both their hearts hum. “You still want me. I still want you. This is just a big interruption. Things’ll go back to normal and this will all blow over.”

“I think it’s unhealthy to have that expectation,” she breathes.

“I don’t care.” His eyes burn pale fire. “I’ll know the end when I feel it. And right now I don’t fucking feel it.”

Heather’s dark brows pinch together. Tongue sweeping anxiously across pretty lips. “I don’t want you to wait for me, Billy.”

“I’m not gonna wait. I’m just gonna know.” Billy takes another step to wrap arms around her. Clutches her to his chest with insisting pressure. “So this isn’t goodbye. I’m hugging you because I want to. You got that? This _isn’t_ goodbye.”

Heather dissolves into his embrace this time. Their bodies fit just right and he's not mad anymore. "I'm going to miss you, Billy."

"Don't say shit like that, Heath." Billy mutters against her hair. "Christ’s sake, just don’t.”

"I will though. I'm going to miss you more than anyone ever."

Billy feels his shoulder dampen where silent tears have shed. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

Heather pulls back to look at him with watery eyes. Wipes at them with the corner of her fuzzy sweater. Sniffing, almost laughing with frustration."Billy, you need to take this more seriously. Because if I don't ever see you again, this is the worst goodbye and-"

Billy wrenches her to him for a kiss. She holds him back just as passionately in response. It soothes him how quickly she opens up, deepens, gives back. He could kiss her in a burning building and she'd still open up to him. A flower blooming in the wildest flames.

Then Neil opens the door and Billy pushes Heather back hard. Makes her stumble, gasping and wide-eyed.

“What’s this?” Neil has a sadistic grin on his face.

“Just a friend.” Billy snaps but knows it’s a pitiful cover.

“Hello…” Heather peers between him and Neil. As though hoping to understand their entire homelife dynamic in a few glances.

“Now this must be the mystery girl.” Neil extends a predatory hand towards her to shake. Still grinning like the cat that caught the canary. The canary being the girl trapped on the porch in front of him. “Does she have a name?” Billy knows once she answers they’ll have opened Pandora’s Box.

“Heather.” The name lands like a meteorite. Neil has everything he needs now as she takes his hand reluctantly. At least she’s not charmed.

Billy doesn’t know what the fuck to say or do. Can’t bear another second of this horror.“See you around.” He drives a nail through this awkward moment as he attempts to escape past Neil.

Neil won’t have any of that. Grabs his shoulder with a hold that presses into fresh bruises. Keeps him there in the doorway. “Nonsense. Of course she’ll stay for dinner.”

Heather shakes her head, taking a step back. ‘I can’t.” Thankfully her instincts are strong.

“Are you sure?” Neil passes that sweet tone he pulls out for special occasions like this. “Susan’s made apple pie for dessert.”

“Sorry, I can’t. My family’s waiting for me.” She glances at Billy with sad eyes. Knows this is a thoroughly depressing way to part. “Thanks for the offer, though. That’s kind of you.” A short and well-practiced politeness. Reminds Billy of her mom.

“Next time.” Neil winks. “Add one more beautiful lady to this house.”

Billy’s tempted to bash Neil’s head against the doorframe right then.

“One day, I hope.” Heather gives a mournful wave as she walks down the steps. “Bye, Billy.” A horrible ending to their covert meeting.

Billy storms past Neil into the Hargrove house without another farewell.

*

Heather wasn’t lying when she said that her parents had taken her out of Hawkins High.

She’s gone.

The void in his life gets wider and wider, blacker and hungrier til it consumes all the good in its wake. Even when she wasn’t with him, she was always still “there”. A constant background presence since he blazed into this shithole town. Her bright glow carried and guided from the beginning. A nurturing source from afar.

Gone. A new chapter starts. Where it leads to worries him. Billy can see himself lying in a ditch somewhere. Can see himself getting drunk and high and lost. See himself buried under maggoty dirt. It’s bad and he knows it. Really, really bad.

Billy sticks to Tommy like glue now. He’s afraid if he doesn’t he’s going to do something scary. Though, Tommy isn’t exactly a good influence. Their relationship probably worked better when Billy was the confident leader and Tommy was the eager-eyed puppy that wagged his tail whenever Billy threw him a bone. Now Billy is the one clinging to Tommy like a liferaft. He’s as sickened by it as he’s helpless to it. But, alone is worse. Far worse. Billy’s worried about who he is when he’s alone. Much better to maintain his stupid social circle, his status, the girls and parties that defined him from day one.

So what if that’s not who he is anymore? It’s who he _was_, and it’s a lot better than the brittle shell he is now. Hollow. Insides scraped out like a gourd. Lovesick and hopeless. He can barely look at himself in the mirror without feeling ill.

The worst part of it is that now he’s forced by the school to go to counseling twice a week. A necessary thing if he wants to continue to attend Hawkins High. Neil grudgingly accepted the terms. He doesn’t believe in counseling or therapy or treatment. Neil’s a pull yourself up by your bootstraps kinda guy. Face the pain with a drink in hand. Do what you need to do and be done with it. You go through this life on your own, no help needed.

Billy agrees. What could talking about shit possibly do to help him? The only cure for him is being reborn in a different body. Preferably one with a trust fund and parents that don’t abandon him or beat him to a pulp. Simple. And never going to happen.

He’s a lost cause.

Joyce Byers is a weird lady. Has a weird-ass family. He’s heard the rumors. Raised a fag and a freak. Husband left her. Worked at a corner store for her whole life until out of nowhere she decided to take night classes to become a school counselor. If anything, _she’s _the one that needs to be counseled. Nearly lost her youngest son to insanity. He has delusions. Paranoid schizophrenic. Almost drowned to death during an episode.

Billy’s met the kid when he came over to hang out with Max once. Seems more of a savant than anything else. Has a photographic memory. Drew a map of Hawkins out that day in insane detail without any reference. Billy was pretty impressed. Max sure has a way of drawing the crazies to her though. Between the dyke that can barely speak and the weirdo Byers kid, he’s not sure who is more fucked up.

Billy knows her friends don’t like him. Not since he beat Harrington to near-death right in front of all of them. They keep their distance and Billy likes it that way.

Now he’s sucked into their little fucked up world yet again.

*

Billy’s first session makes him far more anxious than he’d like.

Joyce sits at her desk in her white-walled shoebox of an office, looking homely as usual. Large horn-rimmed reading glasses slipping down her nose. She’s always in some form of disarray. Absent-minded professor type.

“You’re an hour late.” she says as he plunks himself in the chair in front of her desk. Sunglasses perched to reflect back whatever shit she throws at him.

“Be grateful I showed up at all.” He feels so constrained already. Surrounded by posters that say _read_ and _never give up on your dreams._ This tiny, ugly room, with this tiny, frenetic woman.

“Look, Billy.” She takes off her reading glasses. Brown eyes holding both frazzled vulnerability and unyielding strength. “I don’t want to be here either. You know why? Because you’re mean to me. You talk back and you don’t care about how you make me feel.”

Billy gives the most nonchalant shrug. “Guess I’m mean, then. What ya gonna do about it?”

She shrugs back just as easy. “Nothing. I can’t do anything at all. Not until you let me. Which you won’t.”

“So what the fuck am I here for? Thought you were good at this shit.” Billy reaches in his leather jacket and pulls out his pack of Marlboros. Takes one out and places it between his teeth. “You should go back to working the cash register. Seems more your thing.”

Joyce just laughs. Makes Billy almost drop his cigarette in surprise. She’s gotten steelier. “See, this is exactly what I mean. You did this to me last time. I expected this.” Billy lights up in retaliation and Joyce points at him “You can’t smoke in here.”

Smoke streams from his mouth to taunt her. “I know you smoke, Byers. I’ve seen you around town. Did you want one?” He offers the pack to her.

Joyce pushes a blue mug across her desk towards him. “Put it out.”

“What, you gonna expel me? I _dare_ you.”

“Just do it, okay?” A snap that scares even him.

Billy huffs as he leans over to drop the smoke. Cigarette hissing when it hits the thin layer of coffee at the bottom.

“And take the shades off.”

A scowl as Billy lowers aviators to reveal mottled purple-red. Sees Joyce flinch and gets a strange kick out of her disgust. Then sees pity there and is tempted to bolt out his seat.

Joyce takes a moment of silence. Two of them staring each other down like gunmen at a sundown shoot-off. “Can you tell me what happened at the country club last weekend, Billy?”

Billy crosses his arms. Voice tight through his teeth. “Pretty sure you already know what happened. Whole school’s been yackin’."

“I’d like to hear your version.”

Billy pauses, knee jittering, teeth scraping over his bottom lip. He doesn’t know where to begin. Doesn’t know how to possibly relay this information without giving away his soul.

“It’s a long story.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Joyce smiles soft and genuine.“I’m here to listen.”

Billy keeps his eyes on the window behind her. Sees burgeoning spring. Blossoms that match the colorful bloom on his face. “Got drunk. Fought Steve Harrington.”

“Again.”

“Yup.”

“Can you tell me more?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“Just tell me what happened. From the beginning.”

Billy gives her a sharp look. Would make most people cower but she doesn’t wince. “Lady, if I went back to the beginning we’d be here all fucking day.”

Joyce presses fingers together. So collected. So not her. She thinks she can play the cool professional but he’s not fooled one bit. There’s a fragile, fucked up woman in there that no degree can disguise. “Let me ask you some questions then.Why were you at the country club?”

“Would you ask Harrington that?” If he had a cigarette in his mouth now he’d blow smoke in her face.

“Just answer the question, Billy.”

“Because I got invited. Heather invited me.”

“And Heather is a girl you’re dating?”

He shifts in his seat, can’t play off his discomfort. Can’t lie. “Was.”

“I see.” Joyce gives him a sympathetic look. Same one from their last meeting. The one he’s been dreading. “Why did you go after Steve again?”

“Because he’s a dick. And he wants her.”

“So it’s a competitive thing.”

“Well _duh_.” Billy snorts to cover how exposed he already feels. “They actually pay you for this shit?”

The corner of Joyce’s mouth quirks. “Not much.”

“My turn.” Billy leans forward, elbows to knees. Keeps a cold expression that could knife through the hardest soul. “You’re new at this, Joyce. You’ve never fixed anyone, have you? Do you think anyone ever walks out of here changed? You think you ever actually made a difference? I fucking doubt it. Probably just got hired because everyone feels sorry for you.”

She startles and Billy can’t help but grin at how fast she caved at that. She grabs her pen off the desk, fiddles with it in that nervous, strung out way she’s been hiding. “Just because I’m new at it, doesn’t mean I’m not good at it.”

“Have yet to see evidence of that.”

“You’re a particularly hard case to crack.”

“Oh?”

“You’ve been through a lot, Billy.” Her expression takes on eagle-eyed vision. Tunnels right through him. “Haven’t you?”

A battering ram to the gut. He forces himself to give another casual shrug. “That’s life, ain’t it?”

“But maybe you’ve been through more than the average kid.”

His head gives a slow nod. Cautious. “Could be.” To his dismay, tears poke behind his eyeballs. He stares furiously out the window again. Burning inside for liquor or smoke. Or to punch a hole through Joyce Byers’s desk.

“Look, Billy.” She softens. “I’m not going to force you to say anything. You just have to show up. And if that’s all you want to do, we can do that. But, I really think that if you let yourself talk, tell me what’s really going on, you won’t regret it.”

“Yeah, whatever.” The last bell rings. Billy bursts up out of his seat with the most overwhelming relief. “See ya.”

“Billy, wait.” Joyce opens a beige folder. Licks her finger to pull out a white sheet of paper and hands it to him. “Here’s a questionnaire to fill.”

“Keep the fuckin' thing.” Billy puts his shades on at the door. He slams it closed on the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who are still here kicking it with me. The updates for this one might be pretty sporadic as my main focus is my other fic, Sugar Magnolia. 
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments below or on my tumblr where I'm also [redjadequeen.](https://redjadequeen.tumblr.com/)


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